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Arthur + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: After a Shadow, and Other Stories + +Author: T. S. Arthur + +Posting Date: August 8, 2009 [EBook #4591] +Release Date: October, 2003 +First Posted: February 12, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AFTER A SHADOW, AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +AFTER A SHADOW, AND OTHER STORIES. +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +T. S. ARTHUR. +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK: +<BR> +1868 +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS. +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">AFTER A SHADOW.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">IN THE WAY OF TEMPTATION.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">ANDY LOVELL.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">A MYSTERY EXPLAINED.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">WHAT CAN I DO?</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">ON GUARD.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">A VISIT WITH THE DOCTOR.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">HADN'T TIME FOR TROUBLE.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">A GOOD NAME.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">LITTLE LIZZIE.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">ALICE AND THE PIGEON.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">DRESSED FOR A PARTY.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">COFFEE VS. BRANDY.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">AMY'S QUESTION.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">AN ANGEL IN DISGUISE.</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">WHICH WAS MOST THE LADY?</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">OTHER PEOPLE'S EYES.</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +AFTER A SHADOW,<BR> +AND OTHER STORIES. +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AFTER A SHADOW. +</H3> + +<P> +"ARTY! Arty!" called Mrs. Mayflower, from the window, one bright +June morning. "Arty, darling! What is the child after? Just look at +him, Mr. Mayflower!" +</P> + +<P> +I leaned from the window, in pleasant excitement, to see what new +and wonderful performance had been attempted by my little prodigy—my +first born—my year old bud of beauty, the folded leaves in whose +bosom were just beginning to loosen themselves, and send out upon +the air sweet intimations of an abounding fragrance. He had escaped +from his nurse, and was running off in the clear sunshine, the slant +rays of which threw a long shadow before him. +</P> + +<P> +"Arty, darling!" His mother's voice flew along and past his ear, +kissing it in gentle remonstrance as it went by. But baby was in +eager pursuit of something, and the call, if heard, was unheeded. +His eyes were opening world-ward, and every new +phenomenon—commonplace and unheeded by us—that addressed itself to +his senses, became a wonder and a delight. Some new object was +drawing him away from the loving heart and protecting arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Run after him, Mr. Mayflower!" said my wife, with a touch of +anxiety in her voice. "He might fall and hurt himself." +</P> + +<P> +I did not require a second intimation as to my duty in the case. +Only a moment or two elapsed before I was on the pavement, and +making rapid approaches towards my truant boy. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, darling? What is Arty running after?" I said, as I laid +my hand on his arm, and checked his eager speed. He struggled a +moment, and then stood still, stooping forward for something on the +ground. +</P> + +<P> +"O, papa see!" There was a disappointed and puzzled look in his face +as he lifted his eyes to mine. He failed to secure the object of his +pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, sweet?" My eyes followed his as they turned upon the +ground. +</P> + +<P> +He stooped again, and caught at something; and again looked up in a +perplexed, half-wondering way. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Arty!" I exclaimed, catching him up in my arms. "It's only +your shadow! Foolish child!" And I ran back to Mrs. Mayflower, with +my baby-boy held close against my heart. +</P> + +<P> +"After a shadow!" said I, shaking my head, a little soberly, as I +resigned Arty to his mother. "So life begins—and so it ends! Poor +Arty!" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mayflower laughed out right merrily. +</P> + +<P> +"After a shadow! Why, darling!" And she kissed and hugged him in +overflowing tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"So life begins—so it ends," I repeated to myself, as I left the +house, and walked towards my store. "Always in pursuit of shadows! +We lose to-day's substantial good for shadowy phantoms that keep our +eyes ever in advance, and our feet ever hurrying forward. No +pause—no ease—no full enjoyment of <I>now</I>. O, deluded heart!—ever +bartering away substance for shadow!" +</P> + +<P> +I grow philosophic sometimes. Thought will, now and then, take up a +passing incident, and extract the moral. But how little the wiser +are we for moralizing! we look into the mirror of truth, and see +ourselves—then turn away, and forget what manner of men we are. +Better for us if it were not so; if we remembered the image that +held our vision. +</P> + +<P> +The shadow lesson was forgotten by the time I reached my store, and +thought entered into business with its usual ardor. I buried myself, +amid letters, invoices, accounts, samples, schemes for gain, and +calculations of profit. The regular, orderly progression of a fair +and well-established business was too slow for my outreaching +desires. I must drive onward at a higher speed, and reach the goal +of wealth by a quicker way. So my daily routine was disturbed by +impatient aspirations. Instead of entering, in a calm +self-possession of every faculty, into the day's appropriate work, +and finding, in its right performance, the tranquil state that ever +comes as the reward of right-doing in the right place, I spent the +larger part of this day in the perpetration of a plan for increasing +my gains beyond, anything heretofore achieved. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Mayflower," said one of the clerks, coming back to where I sat +at my private desk, busy over my plan, "we have a new man in from +the West; a Mr. B——, from Alton. He wants to make a bill of a +thousand dollars. Do you know anything about him?" +</P> + +<P> +Now, even this interruption annoyed me. What was a new customer and +a bill of a thousand dollars to me just at that moment of time? I +saw tens of thousands in prospective. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. B——, of Alton?" said I, affecting an effort of memory. "Does he +look like a fair man?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't recall him. Mr. B——? Hum-m-m. He impresses you favorably, +Edward?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir; but it may be prudent to send and get a report." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see to that, Edward," said I. "Sell him what he wants. If +everything is not on the square, I'll give you the word in time. +It's all right, I've no doubt." +</P> + +<P> +"He's made a bill at Kline & Co.'s, and wants his goods sent there +to be packed," said my clerk. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, indeed! Let him have what he wants, Edward. If Kline & Co. sell +him, we needn't hesitate." +</P> + +<P> +And turning to my desk, my plans, and my calculations, I forgot all +about Mr. B——, and the trifling bill of a thousand dollars that he +proposed buying. How clear the way looked ahead! As thought created +the means of successful adventure, and I saw myself moving forward +and grasping results, the whole circle of life took a quicker +motion, and my mind rose into a pleasant enthusiasm. Then I grew +impatient for the initiatory steps that were to come, and felt as if +the to-morrow, in which they must be taken, would never appear. A +day seemed like a week or a month. +</P> + +<P> +Six o'clock found me in not a very satisfactory state of mind. The +ardor of my calculations had commenced abating. Certain elements, +not seen and considered in the outset, were beginning to assume +shape and consequence, and to modify, in many essential particulars, +the grand result towards which I had been looking with so much +pleasure. Shadowy and indistinct became the landscape, which seemed +a little while before so fair and inviting. A cloud settled down +upon it here, and a cloud there, breaking up its unity, and +destroying much of its fair proportion. I was no longer mounting up, +and moving forwards on the light wing of a castle-building +imagination, but down upon the hard, rough ground, coming back into +the consciousness that all progression, to be sure, must be slow and +toilsome. +</P> + +<P> +I had the afternoon paper in my hands, and was running my eyes up +and down the columns, not reading, but, in a half-absent way, trying +to find something of sufficient interest to claim attention, when, +among the money and business items, I came upon a paragraph that +sent the declining thermometer of my feelings away down towards the +chill of zero. It touched, in the most vital part, my scheme of +gain; and the shrinking bubble burst. +</P> + +<P> +"Have the goods sold to that new customer from Alton been +delivered?" I asked, as the real interest of my wasted day loomed up +into sudden importance. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," was answered by one of my clerks; "they were sent to +Kline & Co.'s immediately. Mr. B——said they were packing up his +goods, which were to be shipped to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"He's a safe man, I should think. Kline & Co. sell him." My voice +betrayed the doubt that came stealing over me like a chilly air. +</P> + +<P> +"They sell him only for cash," said my clerk. "I saw one of their +young men this afternoon, and asked after Mr. B——'s standing. He +didn't know anything about him; said B——was a new man, who bought a +moderate cash bill, but was sending in large quantities of goods to +be packed—five or six times beyond the amount of his purchases with +them." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so!" I exclaimed, rising to my feet, all awake now to the +real things which I had permitted a shadow to obscure. +</P> + +<P> +"Just what he told me," answered my clerk. +</P> + +<P> +"It has a bad look," said I. "How large a bill did he make with us?" +</P> + +<P> +The sales book was referred to. "Seventeen hundred dollars," replied +the clerk. +</P> + +<P> +"What! I thought he was to buy only to the amount of a thousand +dollars?" I returned, in surprise and dismay. +</P> + +<P> +"You seemed so easy about him, sir," replied the clerk, "that I +encouraged him to buy; and the bill ran up more heavily than I was +aware until the footing gave exact figures." +</P> + +<P> +I drew out my watch. It was close on to half past six. +</P> + +<P> +"I think, Edward," said I, "that you'd better step round to Kline & +Co.'s, and ask if they've shipped B——'s goods yet. If not, we'll +request them to delay long enough in the morning to give us time to +sift the matter. If B——'s after a swindling game, we'll take a short +course, and save our goods." +</P> + +<P> +"It's too late," answered my clerk. "B——called a little after one +o'clock, and gave notes for the amount of his bill. He was to leave +in the five o'clock line for Boston." +</P> + +<P> +I turned my face a little aside, so that Edward might not see all +the anxiety that was pictured there. +</P> + +<P> +"You look very sober, Mr. Mayflower," said my good wife, gazing at +me with eyes a little shaded by concern, as I sat with Arty's head +leaning against my bosom that evening; "as sober as baby looked this +morning, after his fruitless shadow chase." +</P> + +<P> +"And for the same reason," said I, endeavoring to speak calmly and +firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mr. Mayflower!" Her face betrayed a rising anxiety. My assumed +calmness and firmness did not wholly disguise the troubled feelings +that lay, oppressively, about my heart. +</P> + +<P> +"For the same reason," I repeated, steadying my voice, and trying to +speak bravely. "I have been chasing a shadow all day; a mere phantom +scheme of profit; and at night-fall I not only lose my shadow, but +find my feet far off from the right path, and bemired. I called Arty +a foolish child this morning. I laughed at his mistake. But, instead +of accepting the lesson it should have conveyed, I went forth and +wearied myself with shadow-hunting all day." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mayflower sighed gently. Her soft eyes drooped away from my +face, and rested for some moments on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid we are all, more or less, in pursuit of shadows," she +said,—"of the unreal things, projected by thought on the canvas of a +too creative imagination. It is so with me; and I sigh, daily, over +some disappointment. Alas! if this were all. Too often both the +shadow-good and the real-good of to-day are lost. When night falls +our phantom good is dispersed, and we sigh for the real good we +might have enjoyed." +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we never grow wiser?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall never grow happier unless we do," answered Mrs. Mayflower. +</P> + +<P> +"Happiness!" I returned, as thought began to rise into clearer +perception; "is it not the shadow after which we are all chasing, +with such a blind and headlong speed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Happiness is no shadow. It is a real thing," said Mrs. Mayflower. +"It does not project itself in advance of us; but exists in the +actual and the now, if it exists at all. We cannot catch it by +pursuit; that is only a cheating counterfeit, in guilt and tinsel, +which dazzles our eyes in the ever receding future. No; happiness is +a state of life; and it comes only to those who do each day's work +peaceful self-forgetfulness, and a calm trust in the Giver of all +good for the blessing that lies stored for each one prepared to +receive it in every hour of the coming time." +</P> + +<P> +"Who so does each day's work in a peaceful self-forgetfulness and +patient trust in God?" I said, turning my eyes away from the now +tranquil face of Mrs. Mayflower. +</P> + +<P> +"Few, if any, I fear," she answered; "and few, if any, are happy. +The common duties and common things of our to-days look so plain and +homely in their ungilded actualities, that we turn our thought and +interest away from them, and create ideal forms of use and beauty, +into which we can never enter with conscious life. We are always +losing the happiness of our to-days; and our to-morrows never come." +</P> + +<P> +I sighed my response, and sat for a long time silent. When the tea +bell interrupted me from my reverie, Arty lay fast asleep on my +bosom. As I kissed him on his way to his mother's arms, I said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Dear baby! may it be your first and last pursuit of a shadow." +</P> + +<P> +"No—no! Not yet, my sweet one!" answered Mrs. Mayflower, hugging him +to her heart. "Not yet. We cannot spare you from our world of +shadows." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE WAY OF TEMPTATION. +</H3> + +<P> +MARTIN GREEN was a young man of good habits and a good conceit of +himself. He had listened, often and again, with as much patience as +he could assume, to warning and suggestion touching the dangers that +beset the feet of those who go out into this wicked world, and +become subject to its legion of temptations. All these warnings and +suggestions he considered as so many words wasted when offered to +himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm in no danger," he would sometimes answer to relative or friend, +who ventured a remonstrance against certain associations, or +cautioned him about visiting certain places. +</P> + +<P> +"If I wish to play a game of billiards, I will go to a billiard +saloon," was the firm position he assumed. "Is there any harm in +billiards? I can't help it if bad men play at billiards, and +congregate in billiard saloons. Bad men may be found anywhere and +everywhere; on the street, in stores, at all public places, even in +church. Shall I stay away from church because bad men are there?" +</P> + +<P> +This last argument Martin Green considered unanswerable. Then he +would say,— +</P> + +<P> +"If I want a plate of oysters, I'll go to a refectory, and I'll take +a glass of ale with my oysters, if it so pleases me. What harm, I +would like to know? Danger of getting into bad company, you say? +Hum-m! Complimentary to your humble servant! But I'm not the kind to +which dirt sticks." +</P> + +<P> +So, confident of his own power to stand safely in the midst of +temptation, and ignorant of its thousand insidious approaches, +Martin Green, at the age of twenty-one, came and went as he pleased, +mingling with the evil and the good, and seeing life under +circumstances of great danger to the pure and innocent. But he felt +strong and safe, confident of neither stumbling nor falling. All +around him he saw young men yielding to the pressure of temptation +and stepping aside into evil ways; but they were weak and vicious, +while he stood firm-footed on the rock of virtue! +</P> + +<P> +It happened, very naturally, as Green was a bright, social young +man, that he made acquaintances with other young men, who were +frequently met in billiard saloons, theatre lobbies, and eating +houses. Some of these he did not understand quite as well as he +imagined. The vicious, who have ends to gain, know how to cloak +themselves, and easily deceive persons of Green's character. Among +these acquaintances was a handsome, gentlemanly, affable young man, +named Bland, who gradually intruded himself into his confidence. +Bland never drank to excess, and never seemed inclined to sensual +indulgences. He had, moreover, a way of moralizing that completely +veiled his true quality from the not very penetrating Martin Green, +whose shrewdness and knowledge of character were far less acute than +he, in his self-conceit, imagined. +</P> + +<P> +One evening, instead of going with his sister to the house of a +friend, where a select company of highly-intelligent ladies and +gentleman were to meet, and pass an evening together, Martin excused +himself under the pretence of an engagement, and lounged away to an +eating and drinking saloon, there to spend an hour in smoking, +reading the newspapers, and enjoying a glass of ale, the desire for +which was fast growing into a habit. Strong and safe as he imagined +himself, the very fact of preferring the atmosphere of a drinking or +billiard saloon to that in which refined and intellectual people +breathe, showed that he was weak and in danger. +</P> + +<P> +He was sitting with a cigar in his mouth, and a glass of ale beside +him, reading with the air of a man who felt entirely satisfied with +himself, and rather proud than ashamed of his position and +surroundings, when his pleasant friend, Mr. Bland, crossed the room, +and, reaching out his hand, said, with his smiling, hearty manner,— +</P> + +<P> +"How are you, my friend? What's the news to-day?" And he drew a +chair to the table, calling at the same time to a waiter for a glass +of ale. +</P> + +<P> +"I never drink anything stronger than ale," he added, in a +confidential way, not waiting for Green to answer his first remark. +"Liquors are so drugged nowadays, that you never know what poison +you are taking; besides, tippling is a bad habit, and sets a +questionable example. We must, you know, have some regard to the +effect of our conduct on weaker people. Man is an imitative animal. +By the way, did you see Booth's Cardinal Wolsey?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"A splendid piece of acting,—was it not? You remember, after the +cardinal's fall, that noble passage to which he gives utterance. It +has been running through my mind ever since:—"'Mark but my fall, +and that that ruined me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:<BR> + By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then,<BR> + The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?<BR> + Love thyself last: Cherish those hearts that hate thee:<BR> + Corruption wins not more than honesty.<BR> + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,<BR> + To silence envious tongues; be just, and fear not.<BR> + Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,<BR> + Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,<BR> + Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.'<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"'Love thyself last.—Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy +country's, thy God's, and truth's.' Could a man's whole duty in life +be expressed in fewer words, or said more grandly? I think not." +</P> + +<P> +And so he went on, charming the ears of Green, and inspiring him +with the belief that he was a person of the purest instincts and +noblest ends. While they talked, two young men, strangers to Green +came up, and were introduced by Bland as "My very particular +friends." Something about them did not at first impress Martin +favorably. But this impression soon wore off, they were so +intelligent and agreeable, Bland, after a little while, referred +again to the Cardinal Wolsey of Booth, and, drawing a copy of +Shakspeare's Henry VIII. from his pocket, remarked,— +</P> + +<P> +"If it wasn't so public here, I'd like to read a few of the best +passages in Wolsey's part." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't we get a private room?" said one of the two young men who had +joined Bland and Green. "There are plenty in the house. I'll see." +</P> + +<P> +And away he went to the bar. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," he said, returning in a few minutes; and the party followed +a waiter up stairs, and were shown into a small room, neatly +furnished, though smelling villanously of stale cigar smoke. +</P> + +<P> +"This is cosy," was the approving remark of Bland, as they entered. +Hats and overcoats were laid aside, and they drew around a table +that stood in the centre of the room under the gaslight. A few +passages were read from Shakspeare, then drink was ordered by one of +the the party. The reading interspersed with critical comments, was +again resumed; but the reading soon gave way entire to the comments, +which, in a little while, passed from the text of Shakspeare to +actors, actresses, prima donnas, and ballet-dancers, the relative +merits of which were knowingly discussed for some time. In the midst +of this discussion, oysters, in two or three styles, and a smoking +dish of terrapin, ordered by a member of the company—which our young +friend Green did not know—were brought in, followed by a liberal +supply of wine and brandy. Bland expressed surprise, but accepted +the entertainment as quite agreeable to himself. +</P> + +<P> +After the supper, cigars were introduced, and after the cigars, +cards. A few games were played for shilling stakes. Green, under the +influence of more liquor than his head could bear, and in the midst +of companions whose sphere he could not, in consequence, resist, +yielded in a new direction for him. Of gambling he had always +entertained a virtuous disapproval; yet, ere aware of the direction +in which he was drifting, he was staking money at cards, the sums +gradually increasing, until from shillings the ventures increased to +dollars. Sometimes he won, and sometimes he lost; the winnings +stimulating to new trials in the hope of further success, and the +losses stimulating to new trials in order to recover, if possible; +but, steadily, the tide, for all these little eddies of success, +bore him downwards, and losses increased from single dollars to +fives, and from fives to tens, his pleasant friend, Bland, supplying +whatever he wanted in the most disinterested way, until an aggregate +loss of nearly a hundred and fifty dollars sobered and appalled him. +</P> + +<P> +The salary of Martin Green was only four hundred dollars, every cent +of which was expended as fast as earned. A loss of a hundred and +fifty dollars was, therefore, a serious and embarrassing matter. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll call and see you to-morrow, when we can arrange this little +matter," said Mr. Bland, "on parting with Green at his own door. He +spoke pleasantly, but with something in his voice that chilled the +nerves of his victim. On the next day while Green stood at his desk, +trying to fix his mind upon his work, and do it correctly, his +employer said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Martin, there's a young man in the store who has asked for you." +</P> + +<P> +Green turned and saw the last man on the earth he desired to meet. +His pleasant friend of the evening before had called to "arrange +that little matter." +</P> + +<P> +"Not too soon for you, I hope," remarked Bland, with his courteous, +yet now serious, smile, as he took the victim's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you <I>are</I>, too soon," was soberly answered. +</P> + +<P> +The smile faded off of Bland's face. +</P> + +<P> +"When will you arrange it?" +</P> + +<P> +"In a few days." +</P> + +<P> +"But I want the money to-day. It was a simple loan, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"I am aware of that, but the amount is larger than I can manage at +once," said Green. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I have a part to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do the best in my power." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. To-morrow, at this time, I will call. Make up the whole +sum if possible, for I want it badly." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know that young man?" asked Mr. Phillips, the employer of +Green, as the latter came back to his desk. The face of Mr. Phillips +was unusually serious. +</P> + +<P> +"His name is Bland." +</P> + +<P> +"Why has he called to see you?" The eyes of Mr. Phillips were fixed +intently on his clerk. +</P> + +<P> +"He merely dropped in. I have met him a few times in company." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know his character?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never heard a word against him," said Green. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Martin!" replied Mr. Phillips, "he has the reputation of being +one of the worst young men in our city; a base gambler's +stool-pigeon, some say." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad to know it, sir," Martin had the presence of mind, in the +painful confusion that overwhelmed him, to say, "and shall treat him +accordingly." He went back to his desk, and resumed his work. +</P> + +<P> +It is the easiest thing in the world to go to astray, but always +difficult to return, Martin Green was astray, but how was he to get +into the right path again? A barrier that seemed impassable was now +lying across the way over which he had passed, a little while +before, with lightest footsteps. Alone and unaided, he could not +safely get back. The evil spirits that lure a man from virtue never +counsel aright when to seek to return. They magnify the perils that +beset the road by which alone is safety, and suggest other ways that +lead into labyrinths of evil from which escape is sometimes +impossible. These spirits were now at the ear of our unhappy young +friend, suggesting methods of relief in his embarrassing position. +</P> + +<P> +If Bland were indeed such a character as Mr. Phillips had +represented him, it would be ruin, in his employer's estimation, to +have him call again and again for his debt. But how was he to +liquidate that debt? There was nothing due him on account of salary, +and there was not a friend or acquaintance to whom he could apply +with any hope of borrowing. +</P> + +<P> +"Man's extremity is the devil's opportunity." It was so in the +present case, Green had a number of collections to make on that day, +and his evil counsellors suggested his holding back the return of +two of these, amounting to his indebtedness, and say that the +parties were not yet ready to settle their bills. This would enable +him to get rid of Bland, and gain time. So, acting upon the bad +suggestion, he made up his return of collections, omitting the two +accounts to which we have referred. +</P> + +<P> +Now it so happened that one of the persons against whom these +accounts stood, met Mr. Phillips as he was returning from dinner in +the afternoon, and said to him,— +</P> + +<P> +"I settled that bill of yours to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right. I wish all my customers were as punctual," answered +Mr. Phillips. +</P> + +<P> +"I gave your young man a check for a hundred and five dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." +</P> + +<P> +And the two men passed their respective ways. +</P> + +<P> +On Mr. Phillips's return to his store, Martin rendered his account +of collections, and, to the surprise of his employer, omitted the +one in regard to which he had just been notified. +</P> + +<P> +"Is this all?" he asked, in a tone that sent a thrill of alarm to +the guilty heart of his clerk. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," was the not clearly outspoken answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't Garland pay?" +</P> + +<P> +"N-n-o, sir!" The suddenness of this question so confounded Martin, +that he could not answer without a betraying hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +"Martin!" Astonishment, rebuke, and accusation were in the voice of +Mr. Phillips as he pronounced his clerk's name. Martin's face +flushed deeply, and then grew very pale. He stood the image of guilt +and fear for some moments, then, drawing out his pocket book, he +brought therefrom a small roll of bank bills, and a memorandum slip +of paper. +</P> + +<P> +"I made these collections also." And he gave the money and +memorandum to Mr. Phillips. +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred and fifty dollars withheld! Martin! Martin! what <I>does</I> +this mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Heaven is my witness, sir," answered the young man, with quivering +lips, "that I have never wronged you out of a dollar, and had no +intention of wronging you now. But I am in a fearful strait. My feet +have become suddenly mired, and this was a desperate struggle for +extrication—a temporary expedient only, not a premeditated wrong +against you." +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, Martin," said Mr. Phillips, in a grave, but not severe, +tone of voice. "Let me understand the case from first to last. +Conceal nothing, if you wish to have me for a friend." +</P> + +<P> +Thus enjoined, Martin told his humiliating story. +</P> + +<P> +"If you had not gone into the way of temptation, the betrayer had +not found you," was the remark of Mr. Phillips, when the young man +ended his confession. "Do you frequent these eating and drinking +saloons?" +</P> + +<P> +"I go occasionally, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"They are neither safe nor reputable, Martin. A young man who +frequents them must have the fine tone of his manhood dimmed. There +is an atmosphere of impurity about these places. Have you a younger +brother?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Would you think it good for him, as he emerged from youth to +manhood, to visit refectories and billiard saloons?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir, I would do all in my power to prevent it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's danger in them, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"And, knowing this, you went into the way of danger, and have +fallen!" +</P> + +<P> +Martin dropped his eyes to the floor in confusion. +</P> + +<P> +"Bland is a stool-pigeon and you were betrayed." +</P> + +<P> +"What am I to do?" asked the troubled young man. "I am in debt to +him." +</P> + +<P> +"He will be here to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"I will have a policeman ready to receive him." +</P> + +<P> +"O, no, no, Sir. Pray don't do that!" answered Martin, with a +distressed look. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" demanded Mr. Phillips. +</P> + +<P> +"It will ruin me." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bland will denounce me." +</P> + +<P> +"Let him." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be exposed to the policeman." +</P> + +<P> +"An evil, but a mild one, compared with that to which you were +rushing in order to disentangle yourself. I must have my way, sir. +This matter has assumed a serious aspect. You are in my power, and +must submit." +</P> + +<P> +On the next day, punctual to the hour, Bland called. +</P> + +<P> +"This is your man," said Mr. Phillips to his clerk. "Ask him into +the counting-room." Bland, thus invited, walked back. As he entered, +Mr. Phillips said,— +</P> + +<P> +"My clerk owes you a hundred and fifty dollars, I understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir;" and the villain bowed. +</P> + +<P> +"Make him out a receipt," said Mr. Phillips. +</P> + +<P> +"When I receive the money," was coldly and resolutely answered. +Martin glanced sideways at the face of Bland, and the sudden change +in its expression chilled him. The mild, pleasant, virtuous aspect +he could so well assume was gone, and he looked more like a fiend +than a man. In pictures he had seen eyes such as now gleamed on Mr. +Phillips, but never in a living face before. +</P> + +<P> +The officer, who had been sitting with a newspaper in his hand, now +gave his paper a quick rattle as he threw it aside, and, coming +forward, stood beside Mr. Phillips, and looked steadily at the face +of Bland, over which passed another change: it was less assured, but +not less malignant. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Phillips took out his pocket-book, and, laying a twenty-dollar +bill on the desk by which they were standing, said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Take this and sign a receipt." +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir!" was given with determined emphasis. "I am not to be +robbed in this way!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ned," the officer now spoke, "take my advice, and sign a receipt." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a cursed swindle!" exclaimed the baffled villain. +</P> + +<P> +"We will dispense with hard names, sir!" The officer addressed him +sternly. "Either take the money, or go. This is not a meeting for +parley. I understand you and your operations." +</P> + +<P> +A few moments Bland stood, with an irresolute air; then, clutching +desperately at a pen, he dashed off a receipt, and was reaching for +the money, when Mr. Phillips drew it back, saying,— +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a moment, until I examine the receipt." He read it over, and +then, pushing it towards Bland, said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Write 'In full of all demands.'" A growl was the oral response. +Bland took the pen again, and wrote as directed. +</P> + +<P> +"Take my advice, young man, and adopt a safer and more honorable +business," said Mr. Phillips, as he gave him the twenty-dollar bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep your advice for them that ask it!" was flung back in his face. +A look of hate and revenge burned in the fellow's eyes. After +glaring at Mr. Phillips and Martin in a threatening way for several +moments, he left more hurriedly than he had entered. +</P> + +<P> +"And take my advice," said the officer, laying his hand on Martin's +arm,—he spoke in a warning tone,—"and keep out of that man's way. +He'll never forgive you. I know him and his prowling gang, and they +are a set of as hardened and dangerous villains as can be found in +the city. You are 'spotted' by them from this day, and they number a +dozen at least. So, if you would be safe, avoid their haunts. Give +drinking saloons and billiard rooms a wide berth. One experience +like this should last you a life-time." +</P> + +<P> +Thus Martin escaped from his dangerous entanglement, but never again +to hold the unwavering confidence of his employer. Mr. Phillips +pitied, but could not trust him fully. A year afterwards came +troublesome times, losses in business, and depression in trade. +Every man had to retrench. Thousands of clerks lost their places, +and anxiety and distress were on every hand. Mr. Phillips, like +others, had to reduce expenses, and, in reducing, the lot to go fell +upon Martin Green. He had been very circumspect, had kept away from +the old places where danger lurked, had devoted himself with renewed +assiduity to his employer's interests; but, for all this, doubts +were forever arising in the mind of Mr. Phillips, and when the +question, "Who shall go?" came up, the decision was against Martin. +We pity him, but cannot blame his employer. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ANDY LOVELL. +</H3> + +<P> +ALL the village was getting out with Andy Lovell, the shoemaker; and +yet Andy Lovell's shoes fitted so neatly, and wore so long, that the +village people could ill afford to break with him. The work made by +Tompkins was strong enough, but Tompkins was no artist in leather. +Lyon's fit was good, and his shoes neat in appearance, but they had +no wear in them. So Andy Lovell had the run of work, and in a few +years laid by enough to make him feel independent. Now this feeling +of independence is differently based with different men. Some must +have hundreds of thousands of dollars for it to rest upon, while +others find tens of thousands sufficient. A few drop below the tens, +and count by units. Of this last number was Andy Lovell, the +shoemaker. +</P> + +<P> +When Andy opened his shop and set up business for himself, he was +twenty-four years of age. Previous to that time he had worked as +journeyman, earning good wages, and spending as fast as he earned, +for he had no particular love of money, nor was he ambitious to rise +and make an appearance in the world. But it happened with Andy as +with most young men he fell in love; and as the village beauty was +compliant, betrothal followed. From this time he was changed in many +things, but most of all in his regard for money. From a free-handed +young man, he became prudent and saving, and in a single year laid +by enough to warrant setting up business for himself. The wedding +followed soon after. +</P> + +<P> +The possession of a wife and children gives to most men broader +views of life. They look with more earnestness into the future, and +calculate more narrowly the chances of success. In the ten years +that followed Andy Lovell's marriage no one could have given more +attention to business, or devoted more thought and care to the +pleasure of customers. He was ambitious to lay up money for his +wife's and children's sake, as well as to secure for himself the +means of rest from labor in his more advancing years. The +consequence was, that Andy served his neighbors, in his vocation, to +their highest satisfaction. He was useful, contented, and thrifty. +</P> + +<P> +A sad thing happened to Andy and his wife after this. Scarlet fever +raged in the village one winter, sweeping many little ones into the +grave. Of their three children, two were taken; and the third was +spared, only to droop, like a frost-touched plant, and die ere the +summer came. From that time, all of Andy Lovell's customers noted a +change in the man; and no wonder. Andy had loved these children +deeply. His thought had all the while been running into the future, +and building castles for them to dwell in. Now the future was as +nothing to him; and so his heart beat feebly in the present. He had +already accumulated enough for himself and his wife to live on for +the rest of their days; and, if no more children came, what motive +was there for a man of his views and temperament to devote himself, +with the old ardor, to business? +</P> + +<P> +So the change noticed by his customers continued. He was less +anxious to accommodate; disappointed them oftener; and grew +impatient under complaint or remonstrance. Customers, getting +discouraged or offended, dropped away, but it gave Andy no concern. +He had, no longer, any heart in his business; and worked in it more +like an automaton than a live human being. +</P> + +<P> +At last, Andy suddenly made up his mind to shut up his shop, and +retire from business. He had saved enough to live on—why should he +go on any longer in this halting, miserable way—a public servant, +yet pleasing nobody? +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Lovell hardly knew what to say in answer to her husband's +suddenly formed resolution. It was as he alleged; they had laid up +sufficient; to make them comfortable for the rest of their lives; +and, sure enough, why should Andy worry himself any longer with the +shop? As far as her poor reason went, Mrs. Lovell had nothing to +oppose; but all her instincts were on the other side—she could not +feel that it would be right. +</P> + +<P> +But Andy, when he made up his mind to a thing, was what people call +hard-headed. His "I won't stand it any longer," meant more than this +common form of speech on the lips of ordinary men. So he gave it out +that he should quit business; and it was soon all over the village. +Of course Tompkins and Lyon were well enough pleased, but there were +a great many who heard of the shoemaker's determination with regret. +In the face of all difficulties and annoyances, they had continued +to depend on him for foot garniture, and were now haunted by +unpleasant images of cramped toes, corns, bunyons, and all the +varied ill attendant on badly made and badly fitting shoes, boots, +and gaiters. The retirement of Andy, cross and unaccommodating as he +had become, was felt, in many homes, to be a public calamity. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't think of such a thing, Mr. Lovell," said one. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't do without you," asserted another. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll not give up altogether," pleaded a third, almost coaxingly. +</P> + +<P> +But Andy Lovell was tired of working without any heart in his work; +and more tired of the constant fret and worry attendant upon a +business in which his mind had ceased to feel interest. So he kept +to his resolution, and went on with his arrangements for closing the +shop. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" asked a neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +"Do?" Andy looked, in some surprise, at his interrogator. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. What are you going to do? A man in good health, at your time +of life, can't be idle. Rust will eat him up." +</P> + +<P> +"Rust?" Andy looked slightly bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this?" asked the neighbor, taking something from Andy's +counter. +</P> + +<P> +"An old knife," was the reply. "It dropped out of the window two or +three months ago and was lost. I picked it up this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"It's in a sorry condition," said the neighbor. "Half eaten up with +rust, and good for nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet," replied the shoemaker, "there was better stuff in that +knife, before it was lost, than in any other knife in the shop." +</P> + +<P> +"Better than in this?" And the neighbor lifted a clean, sharp-edged +knife from Andy's cutting-board. +</P> + +<P> +"Worth two of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Which knife is oldest?" asked the neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +"I bought them at the same time." +</P> + +<P> +"And this has been in constant use?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"While the other lay idle, and exposed to the rains and dews?" +</P> + +<P> +"And so has become rusted and good for nothing. Andy, my friend, +just so rusted, and good for nothing as a man, are you in danger of +becoming. Don't quit business; don't fall out of your place; don't +pass from useful work into self-corroding idleness, You'll be +miserable—miserable." +</P> + +<P> +The pertinence of this illustration struck the mind of Andy Lovell, +and set him to thinking; and the more he thought, the more disturbed +became his mental state. He had, as we have see, no longer any heart +in his business. All that he desired was obtained—enough to live on +comfortably; why, then, should he trouble himself with hard-to-please +and ill-natured customers? This was one side of the question. +</P> + +<P> +The rusty knife suggested the other side. So there was conflict in +his mind; but only a disturbing conflict. Reason acted too feebly on +the side of these new-coming convictions. A desire to be at once, +and to escape daily work and daily troubles, was stronger than any +cold judgement of the case. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll find something to do," he said, within himself, and so pushed +aside unpleasantly intruding thoughts. But Mrs. Lovell did not fail +to observe, that since, her husband's determination to go out of +business, he had become more irritable than before, and less at ease +in every way. +</P> + +<P> +The closing day came at last. Andy Lovell shut the blinds before the +windows of his shop, at night-fall, saying, as he did so, but in a +half-hearted, depressed kind of a way, "For the last time;" and then +going inside, sat down in front of the counter, feeling strangely +and ill at ease. The future looked very blank. There was nothing in +it to strive for, to hope for, to live for. Andy was no philosopher. +He could not reason from any deep knowledge of human nature. His +life had been merely sensational, touching scarcely the confines of +interior thought. Now he felt that he was getting adrift, but could +not understand the why and the wherefore. +</P> + +<P> +As the twilight deepened, his mental obscurity deepened also. He was +still sitting in front of his counter, when a form darkened his open +door. It was the postman, with a letter for Andy's wife. Then he +closed the door, saying in his thought, as he had said when closing +the shutters, "For the last time," and went back into the house with +the letter in his hand. It was sealed with black. Mrs. Lovell looked +frightened as she noticed this sign of death. The contents were soon +known. An only sister, a widow, had died suddenly, and this letter +announced the fact. She left three young children, two girls and a +boy. These, the letter stated, had been dispensed among the late +husband's relatives; and there was a sentence or two expressing a +regret that they should be separated from each other. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Lovell was deeply afflicted by this news, and abandoned +herself, for a while, to excessive grief. Her husband had no +consolation to offer, and so remained, for the evening, silent and +thoughtful. Andy Lovell did not sleep well that night. Certain +things were suggested to his mind, and dwelt upon, in spite of many +efforts to thrust them aside. Mrs. Lovell was wakeful also, as was +evident to her husband from her occasional sighs, sobs, and restless +movements; but no words passed between them. Both rose earlier than +usual. +</P> + +<P> +Had Andy Lovell forgotten that he opened his shop door, and put back +the shutters, as usual? Was this mere habit-work, to be corrected +when he bethought himself of what he had done? Judging from his +sober face and deliberate manner—no. His air was not that of a man +acting unconsciously. +</P> + +<P> +Absorbed in her grief, and troubled with thoughts of her sister's +orphaned children, Mrs. Lovell did not, at first, regard the opening +of her husband's shop as anything unusual. But, the truth flashing +across her mind, she went in where Lovell stood at his old place by +the cutting-board, on which was laid a side of morocco, and said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Andy! I thought you had shut up the shop for good and all." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so last night, but I've changed my mind," was the +low-spoken but decided answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Changed your mind! Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what you may think about it, Sally; but my mind's made +up." And Andy squared round, and looked steadily into his wife's +face. "There's just one thing we've got to do; and it's no use +trying to run away from it. That letter didn't come for nothing. The +fact is, Sally, them children mustn't be separated. I've been +thinking about it all night, and it hurts me dreadfully." +</P> + +<P> +"How can we help it? Mary's dead, and her husband's relations have +divided the children round. I've no doubt they will be well cared +for," said Mrs. Lovell. +</P> + +<P> +She had been thinking as well as her husband, but not to so clear a +result. To bring three little children into her quiet home, and +accept years of care, of work, of anxiety, and responsibility, was +not a thing to be done on light consideration. She had turned from +the thought as soon as presented, and pushed it away from every +avenue through which it sought to find entrance. So she had passed +the wakeful night, trying to convince herself that her dead sister's +children would be happy and well cared for. +</P> + +<P> +"If they are here, Sally, we can be certain that they are well cared +for," replied Andy. +</P> + +<P> +"O, dear! I can never undertake the management of three children!" +said Mrs. Lovell, her countenance expressing the painful reluctance +she felt. +</P> + +<P> +Andy turned partly away from his wife, and bent over the +cutting-board. She saw, as he did so, an expression of countenance +that rebuked her. +</P> + +<P> +"A matter like this should be well considered," remarked Mrs. +Lovell. +</P> + +<P> +"That's true," answered her husband. "So take your time. They're +your flesh and blood, you know, and if they come here, you'll have +the largest share of trouble with them." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Lovell went back into the house to think alone, while Andy +commenced cutting out work, his hands moving with the springs of a +readier will than had acted through them for a long time. +</P> + +<P> +It took Mrs. Lovell three or four days to make up her mind to send +for the children, but the right decision came at last. All this +while Andy was busy in his shop—cheerfully at work, and treating the +customers, who, hearing that he had changed his mind, were pressing +in upon him with their orders, much after the pleasant fashion in +which he had treated them in years gone by. He knew that his wife +would send for the children; and after their arrival, he knew that +he would have increased expenses. So, there had come a spur to +action, quickening the blood in his veins; and he was at work once +more, with heart and purpose, a happier man, really, than he had +been for years. +</P> + +<P> +Two or three weeks passed, and then the long silent dwelling of Andy +Lovell was filled with the voices of children. Two or three years +have passed since then. How is it with Andy? There is not a more +cheerful man in all the village, though he is in his shop early and +late. No more complaints from customers. Every one is promptly and +cheerfully served. He has the largest run of work, as of old; and +his income is sufficient not only to meet increased expenses, but to +leave a surplus at the end of every year. He is the bright, sharp +knife, always in use; not the idle blade, which had so narrowly +escaped, falling from the window, rusting to utter worthlessness in +the dew and rain. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. +</H3> + +<P> +"GOING to the Falls and to the White Mountains!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I'm off next week." +</P> + +<P> +"How long will you be absent?" +</P> + +<P> +"From ten days to two weeks." +</P> + +<P> +"What will it cost?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall take a hundred dollars in my pocket-book! That will carry +me through." +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred dollars! Where did you raise that sum? Who's the lender? +Tell him he can have another customer." +</P> + +<P> +"I never borrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! Then you've had a legacy." +</P> + +<P> +"No, and never expect to have one. All my relations are poor." +</P> + +<P> +"Then unravel the mystery. Say where the hundred dollars came from." +</P> + +<P> +"The answer is easy. I saved it from my salary." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I saved it during the last six months for just this purpose, and +now I am to have two weeks of pleasure and profit combined." +</P> + +<P> +"Impossible!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have given you the fact." +</P> + +<P> +"What is your salary, pray?" +</P> + +<P> +"Six hundred a year." +</P> + +<P> +"So I thought. But you don't mean to say that in six months you have +saved one hundred dollars out of three hundred?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; that is just what I mean to say." +</P> + +<P> +"Preposterous. I get six hundred, and am in debt." +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder." +</P> + +<P> +"Why no wonder?" +</P> + +<P> +"If a man spends more than he receives, he will fall in debt." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he will. But on a salary of six hundred, how is it +possible for a man to keep out of debt?" +</P> + +<P> +"By spending less than he receives." +</P> + +<P> +"That is easily said." +</P> + +<P> +"And as easily done. All that is wanted is prudent forethought, +integrity of purpose, and self-denial. He must take care of the +pennies, and the pounds will take care of themselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Trite and obsolete." +</P> + +<P> +"True if trite; and never obsolete. It is as good doctrine to-day as +it was in poor Richard's time. Of that I can bear witness." +</P> + +<P> +"I could never be a miser or a skinflint." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I. But I can refuse to waste my money in unconsidered trifles, +and so keep it for more important things; for a trip to Niagara and +the White Mountains, for instance." +</P> + +<P> +The two young men who thus talked were clerks, each receiving the +salary already mentioned—six hundred dollars. One of them, named +Hamilton, understood the use of money; the other, named Hoffman, +practised the abuse of this important article. The consequence was, +that while Hamilton had a hundred dollars saved for a trip during +his summer vacation, Hoffman was in debt for more than two or three +times that amount. +</P> + +<P> +The incredulous surprise expressed by Hoffman was sincere. He could +not understand the strange fact which had been announced. For an +instant it crossed his mind that Hamilton might only have advanced +his seeming impossible economy as a cover to dishonest practices. +But he pushed the thought away as wrong. +</P> + +<P> +"Not much room for waste of money on a salary of six hundred a +year," answered Hoffman. +</P> + +<P> +"There is always room for waste," said Hamilton. "A leak is a leak, +be it ever so small. The quart flagon will as surely waste its +precious contents through a fracture that loses only a drop at a +time, as the butt from which a constant stream is pouring. The fact +is, as things are in our day, whether flagon or butt, leakage is the +rule not the exception." +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to know where the leak in my flagon is to be found," +said Hoffman. "I think it would puzzle a finance committee to +discover it." +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I unravel for you the mystery?" +</P> + +<P> +"You unravel it! What do you know of my affairs?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I waste my money?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, if you have not saved as much as I have during the last six +months; and yes, if my eyes have given a true report." +</P> + +<P> +"What have your eyes reported?" +</P> + +<P> +"A system of waste, in trifles, that does not add anything +substantial to your happiness and certainly lays the foundation for +a vast amount of disquietude, and almost certain embarrassment in +money affairs, and consequent humiliations." +</P> + +<P> +Hoffman shook his head gravely answering, "I can't see it." +</P> + +<P> +"Would you like to see it?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, certainly, if it exists." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suppose we go down into the matter of expenditures, item by +item, and make some use of the common rules of arithmetic as we go +along. Your salary, to start with, is six hundred dollars, and you +play the same as I do for boarding and washing, that is, four and a +half dollars per week, which gives the sum of two hundred and +thirty-four dollars a year. What do your clothes cost?" +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred and fifty dollars will cover everything!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you have two hundred and sixteen dollars left. What becomes of +that large sum?" +</P> + +<P> +Hoffman dropped his eyes and went to thinking. Yes, what had become +of these two hundred and sixteen dollars? Here was the whole thing +in a nutshell. +</P> + +<P> +"Cigars," said Hamilton. "How many do you use in a day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not over three. But these are a part of considered expenses. I am +not going to do without cigars." +</P> + +<P> +"I am only getting down to the items," answered the friend. "We must +find out where the money goes. Three cigars a day, and, on an +average, one to a friend, which makes four." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, say four." +</P> + +<P> +"At six cents apiece." +</P> + +<P> +Hamilton took a slip of paper and made a few figures. +</P> + +<P> +"Four cigars a day at six cents each, cost twenty-four cents. Three +hundred and sixty-five by twenty-four gives eighty-seven dollars and +sixty cents, as the cost of your cigars for a year." +</P> + +<P> +"O, no! That is impossible," returned Hoffman, quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"There is the calculation. Look at it for yourself," replied +Hamilton, offering the slip of paper. +</P> + +<P> +"True as I live!" ejaculated the other, in unfeigned surprise. "I +never dreamed of such a thing. Eighty-seven dollars. That will never +do in the world. I must cut this down." +</P> + +<P> +"A simple matter of figures. I wonder you had not thought of +counting the cost. Now I do not smoke at all. It is a bad habit, +that injures the health, and makes us disagreeable to our friends, +to say nothing of the expense. So you see how natural the result, +that at the end of the year I should have eighty-seven dollars in +band, while you had puffed away an equal sum in smoke. So much for +the cigar account. I think you take a game of billiards now and +then." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I do. Billiards are innocent. I am very fond of the game, +and must have some recreation." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly so. The question now is, What do they cost?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing to speak of. You can't make out a case here." +</P> + +<P> +"We shall see. How often do you play?" +</P> + +<P> +"Two or three times a week." +</P> + +<P> +"Say twice a week." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Let it be twice. A shilling a game must be paid for use +of the table?" +</P> + +<P> +"Which comes from the loser's pocket. I, generally, make it a point +to win." +</P> + +<P> +"But lose sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. The winning is rarely all on one side." +</P> + +<P> +"One or two games a night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose we put down an average loss of three games in a week. Will +that be too high?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Call it three games a week." +</P> + +<P> +"Or, as to expense, three shillings. Then, after the play, there +comes a glass of ale—or, it may be oysters." +</P> + +<P> +"Usually." +</P> + +<P> +"Will two shillings at week, taking one week with another, pay for +your ale and oysters?" +</P> + +<P> +Hoffman did not answer until he had reflected for a few moments, +Then he said,— +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid neither two nor four shillings will cover this item. We +must set it down at six." +</P> + +<P> +"Which gives for billiards, ale and oysters, the sum of one dollar +and a shilling per week. Fifty-two by a dollar twelve-and-a-half, +and we have the sum of fifty-eight dollars and fifty cents. Rather a +serious item this, in the year's expense, where the income is only +six hundred dollars!" +</P> + +<P> +Hoffman looked at his friend in a bewildered kind of way. This was +astounding. +</P> + +<P> +"How often do you go to the theatre and opera?" Hamilton went on +with his questions. +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes once a week. Sometimes twice or thrice, according to the +attraction." +</P> + +<P> +"And you take a lady now and then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Particularly during the opera season?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I'm not so selfish as always to indulge in these pleasures +alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Now for the cost. Sometimes the opera is one dollar. So +it costs two dollars when you take a lady." +</P> + +<P> +"Which is not very often." +</P> + +<P> +"Will fifty cents a week, averaging the year, meet this expense?" +</P> + +<P> +After thinking for some time, Hoffman said yes, he thought that +fifty cents a week would be a fair appropriations. +</P> + +<P> +"Which adds another item of twenty-six dollars a year to your +expenses." +</P> + +<P> +"But would you cut off everything?" objected Hoffman. "Is a man to +have no recreations, no amusements?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is another question," coolly answered Hamilton. "Our present +business is to ascertain what has become of the two hundred and +sixteen dollars which remained of your salary after boarding and +clothing bills were paid. That is a handsome gold chain. What did it +cost?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eighteen dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Bought lately?" +</P> + +<P> +"Within six months." +</P> + +<P> +"So much more accounted for. Is that a diamond pin?" +</P> + +<P> +Hoffman colored a little as he answered,— +</P> + +<P> +"Not a very costly one. Merely a scarf-pin, as you see. Small, +though brilliant. Always worth what I paid for it." +</P> + +<P> +"Cost twenty-five or thirty dollars?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty-five." +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I put that down as one of the year expenses?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you may do so." +</P> + +<P> +"What about stage and car hire? Do you ride or walk to and from +business?" +</P> + +<P> +"I ride, of course. You wouldn't expect me to walk nearly a mile +four times a day." +</P> + +<P> +"I never ride, except in bad weather. The walk gives me just the +exercise I need. Every man, who is confined in a store or +counting-room during business hours, should walk at least four miles +a day. Taken in installments of one mile at a time, at good +intervals, there is surely no hardship in this exercise. Four rides, +at six-pence a ride and we have another item of twenty-five cents at +day. You go down town nearly every evening?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And ride both ways? +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"A shilling more, or thirty seven and a half cents daily for car and +stage hire. Now for another little calculation. Three hundred days, +at three shillings a day. There it is." +</P> + +<P> +And Hamilton reached a slip of paper to his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Impossible!" The latter actually started to his feet. "A hundred +and twelve dollars and fifty cents!" +</P> + +<P> +"If you spend three shillings a day, you will spend that sum in a +year. Figures are inexorable." +</P> + +<P> +Hoffman sat down again in troubled surprise, saying, +</P> + +<P> +"Have you got to the end?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," replied his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Go on." +</P> + +<P> +"I often notice you with candies, or other confections; and you are, +sometimes, quite free in sharing them with your friends. Burnt +almonds, sugar almonds, Jim Crow's candied fruits, macaroons, etc. +These are not to be had for nothing; and besides their cost they are +a positive injury to the stomach. You, of course, know to what +extent you indulge this weakness of appetite. Shall we say that it +costs an average of ten cents a day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Add fruit, in and out of season, and call it fifteen cents," +replied Hoffman. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. For three hundred days this will give another large +sum—forty-five dollars?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anything more?" said Hoffman in a subdued, helpless kind of way, +like one lying prostrate from a sudden blow. +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen you driving out occasionally; sometimes on Sunday. And, +by the way, I think you generally take an excursion on Sunday, over +to Staten Island, or to Hoboken, or up the river, or—but no matter +where; you go about and spend money on the Sabbath day. How much +does all this cost? A dollar a week? Seventy-five cents? Fifty +cents? We are after the exact figures as near as maybe. What does it +cost for drives and excursions, and their spice of refreshment?" +</P> + +<P> +"Say thirty dollars a year." +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty dollars, then, we will call it. And here let us close, in +order to review the ground over which we have been travelling. All +those various expenses, not one of which is for things essential to +health, comfort, or happiness, but rather for their destruction, +amount to the annual sum of four hundred and two dollars sixty +cents,—you can go over the figures for yourself. Add to this three +hundred and eighty-four dollars, the cost of boarding and clothing, +and you swell the aggregate to nearly eight hundred dollars; and +your salary is but six hundred!" +</P> + +<P> +A long silence followed. +</P> + +<P> +"I am amazed, confounded!" said Hoffman, resting his head between +his hands, as he leaned on the table at which they were sitting. +"And not only amazed and confounded," he went on, "but humiliated, +ashamed! Was I a blind fool that I did not see it myself? Had I +forgotten my multiplication table?" +</P> + +<P> +"You are like hundreds—nay, thousands," replied the friend, "to whom +a sixpence, a shilling, or even a dollar spent daily has a very +insignificant look; and who never stop to think that sixpence a day +amounts to over twenty dollars in a year; a shilling a day to over +forty; and a dollar a day to three hundred and sixty-five. We cannot +waste our money in trifles, and yet have it to spend for substantial +benefits. The cigars you smoked in the past year; the games of +billiards you played; the ale and oysters, cakes, confections, and +fruit consumed; the rides in cars and stages; the drives and Sunday +excursions, crave only the briefest of pleasures, and left new and +less easily satisfied desires behind. It will not do, my friend, to +grant an easy indulgence to natural appetite and desire, for they +ever seek to be our masters. If we would be men—self-poised, +self-controlling, self-possessing men—we must let reason govern in +all our actions. We must be wise, prudent, just, and self-denying; +and from this rule of conduct will spring order, tranquillity of +mind, success, and true enjoyment. I think, Hoffman, that I am quite +as happy a man as you are; far happier, I am sure, at this moment; +and yet I have denied myself nearly all theses indulgences through +which you have exhausted your means and embarrassed yourself with +debt. Moreover, I have a hundred dollars clear of everything, with +which I shall take a long-desired excursion, while you will be +compelled, for lack of the very money which has been worse than +wasted, to remain a prisoner in the city. Pray, be counselled to a +different course in future." +</P> + +<P> +"I would be knave or fool to need further incentive," said Hoffman, +with much bitterness. "At the rate I am going on, debt, humiliation, +and disgrace are before me. I may live up to my income without +actually wronging others—but not beyond it. As things are now going, +I am two hundred dollars worse off at the end of each year when than +I began, and, worse still, weaker as to moral purpose, while the +animal and sensual natures, from constant indulgence, have grown +stronger. I must break this thraldom now; for, a year hence, it may +be too late! Thank, you, my friend, for your plain talk. Thank you +for teaching me anew the multiplication table, I shall, assuredly, +not forget it again." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT CAN I DO? +</H3> + +<P> +HE was a poor cripple—with fingers twisted out of all useful shape, +and lower limbs paralyzed so that he had to drag them after him +wearily when he moved through the short distances that limited his +sphere of locomotion—a poor, unhappy, murmuring, and, at times, +ill-natured cripple, eating the bread which a mother's hard labor +procured for him. For hours every fair day, during spring, summer, +and autumn, he might be seen in front of the little house where he +lived leaning upon the gate, or sitting on an old bench looking with +a sober face at the romping village children, or dreamily regarding +the passengers who moved with such strong limbs up and down the +street. How often, bitter envy stung the poor cripple's heart! How +often, as the thoughtless village children taunted him cruelly with +his misfortune, would he fling harsh maledictions after them. Many +pitied the poor cripple; many looked upon him with feelings of +disgust and repulsion; but few, if any, sought to do him good. +</P> + +<P> +Not far from where the cripple lived was a man who had been +bedridden for years, and who was likely to remain so to the end of +his days. He was supported by the patient industry of a wife. +</P> + +<P> +"If good works are the only passport to heaven," he said to a +neighbor one day, "I fear my chances will be small." +</P> + +<P> +"'Well done, good and faithful servant,' is the language of +welcome," was replied; and the neighbor looked at the sick man in a +way that made him feel a little uncomfortable. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sick and bedridden—what can I do?" he spoke, fretfully. +</P> + +<P> +"When little is given, little is required. But if there be only a +single talent it must be improved." +</P> + +<P> +"I have no talent," said the invalid. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"What can I do? Look at me! No health, no strength, no power to rise +from this bed. A poor, helpless creature, burdening my wife. Better +for me, and for all, if I were in my grave." +</P> + +<P> +"If that were so you would be in your grave. But God knows best. +There is something for you to do, or you would be no longer +permitted to live," said the neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +The sick man shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"As I came along just now," continued the neighbor, "I stopped to +say a word to poor Tom Hicks, the cripple, as he stood swinging on +the gate before his mother's house, looking so unhappy that I pitied +him in my heart. 'What do you do with yourself all through these +long days, Tom?' I asked. 'Nothing,' he replied, moodily. 'Don't you +read sometimes?' I queried. 'Can't read,' was his sullen answer. +'Were you never at school?' I went on. 'No: how can I get to +school?' 'Why don't your mother teach you?' 'Because she can't read +herself,' replied Tom. 'It isn't too late to begin now,' said I, +encouragingly; 'suppose I were to find some one willing to teach +you, what would you say?' The poor lad's face brightened as if the +sunshine had fallen upon it; and he answered, 'I would say that +nothing could please me better.' I promised to find him a teacher; +and, as I promised, the thought of you, friend Croft, came into my +mind. Now, here is something that you can do; a good work in which +you can employ your one talent." +</P> + +<P> +The sick man did not respond warmly to this proposition. He had been +so long a mere recipient of good offices,—had so long felt himself +the object towards which pity and service must tend,—that he had +nearly lost the relish for good deeds. Idle dependence had made him +selfish. +</P> + +<P> +"Give this poor cripple a lesson every day," went on the neighbor, +pressing home the subject, "and talk and read to him. Take him in +charge as one of God's children, who needs to be instructed and led +up to a higher life than the one he is now living. Is not this a +good and a great work? It is, my friend, one that God has brought to +your hand, and in the doing of which there will be great reward. +What can you do? Much! Think of that poor boy's weary life, and of +the sadder years that lie still before him. What will become of him +when his mother dies? The almshouse alone will open its doors for +the helpless one. But who can tell what resources may open before +him if stimulated by thought. Take him, then, and unlock the doors +of a mind that now sits in darkness, that sunlight may come in. To +you it will give a few hours of pleasant work each day; to him it +will be a life-long benefit. Will you do it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +The sick man could not say "No," though in uttering that +half-extorted assent he manifested no warm interest in the case of +poor Tom Hicks. +</P> + +<P> +On the next day the cripple came to the sick man, and received his +first lesson; and every day, at an appointed hour, he was in Mr. +Croft's room, eager for the instruction he received. Quickly he +mastered the alphabet, and as quickly learned to construct small +words, preparatory to combining them in a reading lesson. +</P> + +<P> +After the first three or four days the sick man, who, had undertaken +this work with reluctance, began to find his heart going down into +it. Tom was so ready a scholar, so interested, and so grateful, that +Mr. Croft found the task of instructing him a real pleasure. The +neighbor, who had suggested this useful employment of the invalid's +time, looked in now and then to see how matters were progressing, +and to speak words of encouragement. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Tom was seen less frequently than before hanging on the gate, +or sitting idly on the bench before his mother's dwelling; and when +you did find him there, as of old, you saw a different expression on +his face. Soon the children, who had only looked at him, half in +fear, from a distance, or come closer to the gate where he stood +gazing with his strange eyes out into the street, in order to worry +him, began to have a different feelings for the cripple, and one and +another stopped occasionally to speak with him; for Tom no longer +made queer faces, or looked at them wickedly, as if he would harm +them if in his power, nor retorted angrily if they said things to +worry him. And now it often happened that a little boy or girl, who +had pitied the poor cripple, and feared him at the same time, would +offer him a flower, or an apple, or at handful of nuts in passing to +school; and he would take these gifts thankfully, and feel better +all day in remembrance of the kindness with which they had been +bestowed. Sometimes he would risk to see their books, and his eyes +would run eagerly over the pages so far in advance of his +comprehension, yet with the hope in his heart of one day mastering +them; for he had grown all athirst for knowledge. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as Tom could read, the children in the neighborhood, who had +grown to like him, and always gathered around him at the gate, when +they happened to find him there, supplied him with books; so that he +had an abundance of mental food, and now began to repay his +benefactor, the bedridden man, by reading to him for hours every +day. +</P> + +<P> +The mind of Tom had some of this qualities of a sponge: it absorbed +a great deal, and, like a sponge, gave out freely at every pressure. +</P> + +<P> +Whenever his mind came in contact with another mind, it must either +absorb or impart. So he was always talking or always listening when +he had anybody who would talk or listen. +</P> + +<P> +There was something about him that strongly attracted the boys in +the neighborhood, and he usually had three or four of them around +him and often a dozen, late in the afternoon, when the schools were +out. As Tom had entered a new world,—the world of books,—and was +interested in all he found there, the subjects on which he talked +with the boys who sought his company were always instructive. There, +was no nonsense about the cripple: suffering of body and mind had +long ago made him serious; and all nonsense, or low, sensual talk, +to which boys are sometimes addicted, found no encouragement in his +presence. His influence over these boys was therefore of the best +kind. The parents of some of the children, when they found their +sons going so often to the house of Tom Hicks, felt doubts as to the +safety of such intimate intercourse with the cripple, towards whom +few were prepossessed, as he bore in the village the reputation of +being ill-tempered and depraved, and questioned them very closely in +regard to the nature of their intercourse. The report of these boys +took their parents by surprise; but, on investigation, it proved to +be true, and Tom's character soon rose in the public estimation. +</P> + +<P> +Then came, as a natural consequence, inquiry as to the cause of such +a change in the unfortunate lad; and the neighbor of the sick man +who had instructed Tom told the story of Mr. Croft's agency in the +matter. This interested the whole town in both the cripple and his +bedridden instructor. The people were taken by surprise at such a +notable interest of the great good which may sometimes be done where +the means look discouragingly small. Mr. Croft was praised for his +generous conduct, and not only praised, but helped by many who had, +until now, felt indifferent, towards his case—for his good work +rebuked them for neglected opportunities. +</P> + +<P> +The cripple's eagerness to learn, and rapid progress under the most +limited advantages, becoming generally known, a gentleman, whose son +had been one of Tom's visitors, and who had grown to be a better boy +under his influence, offered to send him in his wagon every day to +the school-house, which stood half a mile distant, and have him +brought back in the afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +It was the happiest day in Tom's life when he was helped down from +the wagon, and went hobbling into the school-room. +</P> + +<P> +Before leaving home on that morning he had made his way up to the +sick room of Mr. Croft. +</P> + +<P> +"I owe it all to you," he said, as he brought the white, thin hand +of his benefactor to his lips. It was damp with more than a kiss +when he laid it back gently on the bed. "And our Father in heaven +will reward you." +</P> + +<P> +"You have done a good work," said the neighbor, who had urged Mr. +Croft to improve his one talent, as he sat talking with him on that +evening about the poor cripple and his opening prospects; "and it +will serve you in that day when the record of life is opened. Not +because of the work itself, but for the true charity which prompted +the work. It was begun, I know, in some self-denial, but that +self-denial was for another's good; and because you put away love of +ease, and indifference, and forced yourself to do kind offices, +seeing that it was right to help others, God will send a heavenly +love of doing good into your soul, which always includes a great +reward, and is the passport to eternal felicities. +</P> + +<P> +"You said," continued the neighbor, "only a few months ago, 'What +can I do?' and spoke as a man who felt that he was deprived of all +the means of accomplishing good; and yet you have, with but little +effort, lifted a human soul out of the dark valley of ignorance, +where it was groping ill self-torture, and placed it on an ascending +mountain path. The light of hope has fallen, through your aid, with +sunny warmth upon a heart that was cold and barren a little while +ago, but is now green with verdure, and blossoming in the sweet +promise of fruit. The infinite years to come alone can reveal the +blessings that will flow from this one act of a bedridden man, who +felt that in him was no capacity for good deeds." +</P> + +<P> +The advantages of a school being placed within the reach of Tom +Hicks, he gave up every thought to the acquirement of knowledge. And +now came a serious difficulty. His bent, stiff fingers could not be +made to hold either pen or pencil in the right position, or to use +them in such a way as to make intelligible signs. But Tom was too +much in earnest to give up on the first, or second, or third effort. +He found, after a great many trials, that he could hold a pencil +more firmly than at first, and guide his hand in some obedience to +his will. This was sufficient to encourage him to daily +long-continued efforts, the result of which was a gradual yielding +of the rigid muscles, which became in time so flexible that he could +make quite passable figures, and write a fair hand. This did not +satisfy him, however. He was ambitious to do better; and so kept on +trying and trying, until few boys in the school could give a fairer +copy. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you heard the news?" said a neighbor to Mr. Croft, the poor +bedridden man. It was five years from the day he gave the poor +cripple, Tom Hicks, his first lesson. +</P> + +<P> +"What news?" the sick man asked, in a feeble voice, not even turning +his head towards the speaker. Life's pulses were running very low. +The long struggle with disease was nearly over. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom Hicks has received the appointment of teacher to our public +school." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in earnest?" There was a mingling of surprise and doubt in +the low tones that crept out upon the air. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. It is true what I say. You know that after Mr. Wilson died the +directors got Tom, who was a favorite with all the scholars, to keep +the school together for a few weeks until a successor could be +appointed. He managed so well, kept such good order, and showed +himself so capable as an instructor, that, when the election took +place to-day, he received a large majority of votes over a number of +highly-recommended teachers, and this without his having made +application for the situation, or even dreaming of such a thing." +</P> + +<P> +At this moment the cripple's well-known shuffling tread and the +rattle of crutches was heard on the stairs. He came up with more +than his usual hurry. Croft turned with an effort, so as to get a +sight of him as he entered the room. +</P> + +<P> +"I have heard the good news," he said, as he reached a hand feebly +towards Tom, "and it has made my heart glad." +</P> + +<P> +"I owe it all to you," replied the cripple, in a voice that trembled +with feeling. "God will reward you." +</P> + +<P> +And he caught the shadowy hand, touched it with his lips, and wet it +with grateful tears, as once before. Even as he held that thin, +white hand the low-moving pulse took an lower beat—lower and +lower—until the long-suffering heart grew still, and the freed +spirit went up to its reward. +</P> + +<P> +"My benefactor!" sobbed the cripple, as he stood by the wasted form +shrouded in grave-clothes, and looked upon it for the last time ere +the coffin-lid closed over it. "What would I have been except for +you?" +</P> + +<P> +Are your opportunities for doing good few, and limited in range, to +all appearances, reader? Have you often said, like the bedridden +man, "What can I do?" Are you poor, weak, ignorant, obscure, or even +sick as he was, and shut out from contact with the busy outside +world? No matter. If you have a willing heart, good work will come +to your hands. Is there no poor, unhappy neglected one to whom you +can speak words of encouragement, or lift out of the vale of +ignorance? Think! Cast around you. You may, by a single sentence, +spoken in the right time and in the right spirit, awaken thoughts in +some dull mind that may grow into giant powers in after times, +wielded for the world's good. While you may never be able to act +directly on society to any great purpose, in consequence of mental +or physical disabilities, you may, by instruction and guidance, +prepare some other mind for useful work, which, but for your agency, +might have wasted its powers in ignorance or crime. All around us +are human souls that may be influenced. The nurse, who ministers to +you in sickness, may be hurt or helped by you; the children, who +look into your face and read it daily, who listen to your speech, +and remember what you say, will grow better or worse, according to +the spirit of your life, as it flows into them; the neglected son of +a neighbor may find in you the wise counsellor who holds him back +from vice. Indeed, you cannot pass a single day, whether your sphere +be large or small, your place exalted or lowly, without abundant +opportunities for doing good. Only the willing heart is required. As +for the harvest, that is nodding, ripe for the sickle, in every +man's field. What of that time when the Lord of the Harvest comes, +and you bind up your sheaves and lay them at his feet? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ON GUARD. +</H3> + +<P> +"O, MAMMA! See that wicked-looking cat on the fence! She'll have one +of those dear little rabbits in a minute!" +</P> + +<P> +Mattie's sweet face grew pale with fear, and she trembled all over. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only a picture, my dear," said Mattie's mother. "The cat can't +get down, and so the rabbits are safe." +</P> + +<P> +"But it looks as if she could—as if she'd jump right upon the dear +little things. I wish there was a big dog, like Old Lion, there. +Wouldn't he make her fly?" +</P> + +<P> +"But it's only a picture. If there was a dog there, he couldn't bark +nor spring at the cat." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't the man who made the picture put in a dog somewhere, so +that we could see him, and know the rabbits were safe?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe he didn't think of it," said Mattie's mother. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish he had." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," said the mother, "he wished to teach us this lesson, +that, as there are evil and hurtful things in the world, we should +never be so entirely off of our guard as the children playing, with +the rabbits seem to be. Dear little things! How innocent and happy +they are! There is not a thought of danger in their minds. And yet, +close by them is a great cat, with cruel eyes, ready to spring upon +their harmless pets. Yes; I think the artist meant to teach a lesson +when he drew this picture." +</P> + +<P> +"What lesson, mother?" asked Mattie. "O, I remember," she added +quickly. "You said that it might be to teach us never to be off of +our guard, because there are evil and hurtful things in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; and that is a lesson which cannot be learned too early. Baby +begins to learn it when he touches the fire and is burnt; when he +pulls the cat too hard and she scratches him; when he runs too fast +for his little strength, and gets a fall. And children learn it when +they venture too near vicious animal and are kicked or bitten; when +they tear their clothes, or get their hands and faces scratched with +thorns and briers; when they fall from trees, or into the water, and +in many other ways that I need not mention. And men and women learn, +it very, very, often in pains and sorrows too deep for you to +comprehend." +</P> + +<P> +Mattie drew a long sigh, as she stood before her mother, looking, +soberly into her face. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish there wasn't anything bad in the world," she said. "Nothing +that could hurt us." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, dear child!" answered the mother, her voice echoing Mattie's +sigh, "from millions and millions of hearts that wish comes up +daily. But we have this to cheer us: if we stand on guard—if we are +watchful as well as innocent—we shall rarely get hurt. It is the +careless and the thoughtless that harm reaches." +</P> + +<P> +"And so we must always be on guard," said Mattie, still looking very +sober. +</P> + +<P> +"There is no other way, my child. 'On guard' is the watchword of +safety for us all, young and old. But the harm that comes from the +outside is of small account compared with the harm that comes from +within." +</P> + +<P> +"From within, mother! How can harm could from within?" +</P> + +<P> +"You read about the 'hawk among the birds'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes—O, now I understand what you mean! Bad thoughts and +feelings can do us harm." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; and the hurt is deeper and more deadly than any bodily harm, +for it is done to the soul. These rabbits are like good and innocent +things of the mind, and the cat like evil and cruel things. If you +do not keep watch, in some unguarded moment angry passions evil +arise and hurt or destroy your good affections; just as this cat, if +she were real, would tear or kill the tender rabbits." +</P> + +<P> +"O, mother! Is it as bad as that?" said Mattie. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, my dear; just as bad as that. And when any of these good and +innocent feelings are destroyed by anger, hatred, jealousy, envy, +revenge and the like, then just so much of heavenly good dies in us +and just so far do we come under the power of what is evil and +hurtful. Then we turn aside from safe and pleasant ways and walk +among briers and thorns. Dear Mattie! consider well the lesson of +this picture, and set a watch over your heart daily. But watching is +not all. We are told in the Bible to pray as well as watch. All of +us, young and old, must do this if we would be in safety; for human +will and human effort would all be in vain to overcome evil if +divine strength did not flow into them. And unless we desire and +pray for this divine strength we cannot receive it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A VISIT WITH THE DOCTOR. +</H3> + +<P> +"HOW are you to-day, Mrs. Carleton?" asked Dr. Farleigh, as he sat +down by his patient, who reclined languidly in a large cushioned +chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Miserable," was the faintly spoken reply. And the word was +repeated,—"Miserable." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor took one of the lady's small, white hands, on which the +network of veins, most delicately traced, spread its blue lines +everywhere beneath the transparent skin. It was a beautiful hand—a +study for a painter or sculptor. It was a soft, flexible hand—soft, +flexible, and velvety to the touch as the hand of a baby, for it was +as much a stranger to useful work. The doctor laid his fingers on +the wrist. Under the pressure he felt the pulse beat slowly and +evenly. He took out his watch and counted the beats, seventy in a +minute. There was a no fever, nor any unusual disturbance of the +system. Calmly the heart was doing its appointed work. +</P> + +<P> +"How is your head, Mrs. Carleton?" +</P> + +<P> +The lady moved her head from side to side two or three times. +</P> + +<P> +"Anything out of the way there?" +</P> + +<P> +"My head is well enough, but I feel so miserable—so weak. I haven't +the strength of a child. The least exertion exhausts me." +</P> + +<P> +And the lady shut her eyes, looking the picture of feebleness. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you taken the tonic, for which I left a prescription +yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; but I'm no stronger." +</P> + +<P> +"How is your appetite?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bad." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you taken the morning walk in the garden that I suggested?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, dear, no! Walk out in the garden? I'm faint by the time I get to +the breakfast-room! I can't live at this rate, doctor. What am I to +do? Can't you build me up in some way? I'm burden to myself and +every one else." +</P> + +<P> +And Mrs. Carleton really looked distressed. +</P> + +<P> +"You ride out every day?" +</P> + +<P> +"I did until the carriage was broken, and that was nearly a week +ago. It has been at the carriage-maker's ever since." +</P> + +<P> +"You must have the fresh air, Mrs. Carleton," said the doctor, +emphatically. "Fresh air, change of scene, and exercise, are +indispensable in your case. You will die if you remain shut up after +this fashion. Come, take a ride with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor! How absurd!" exclaimed Mrs. Carleton, almost shocked by the +suggestion. "Ride with you! What would people think?" +</P> + +<P> +"A fig for people's thoughts! Get your shawl and bonnet, and take a +drive with me. What do you care for meddlesome people's thoughts? +Come!" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor knew his patient. +</P> + +<P> +"But you're not in earnest, surely?" There was a half-amused twinkle +in the lady's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Never more in earnest. I'm going to see a patient just out of the +city, and the drive will be a charming one. Nothing would please me +better than to have your company." +</P> + +<P> +There was a vein of humor, and a spirit of "don't care" in Mrs. +Carleton, which had once made her independent, and almost hoydenish. +But fashionable associations, since her woman-life began, had toned +her down into exceeding propriety. Fashion and conventionality, +however, were losing their influence, since enfeebled health kept +her feet back from the world's gay places; and the doctor's +invitation to a ride found her sufficiently disenthralled to see in +it a pleasing novelty. +</P> + +<P> +"I've half a mind to go," she said, smiling. She had not smiled +before since the doctor came in. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll ring for your maid," and Dr. Farleigh's hand was on the +bell-rope before Mrs. Carleton had space to think twice, and +endanger a change of thought. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sure that I am strong enough for the effort," said Mrs. +Carleton, and she laid her head back upon the cushions in a feeble +way. +</P> + +<P> +"Trust me for that," replied the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +The maid came in. +</P> + +<P> +"Bring me a shawl and my bonnet, Alice; I am going to ride out with +the doctor." Very languidly was the sentence spoken. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid, doctor, it will be too much for me. You don't know how +weak I am. The very thought of such an effort exhausts me." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a thought of the effort," replied Dr. Farleigh. "It isn't +that." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"A thought of appearances—of what people will say." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, doctor! You don't think me so weak in that direction?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just so weak," was the free-spoken answer. "You fashionable people +are all afraid of each other. You haven't a spark of individuality +or true independence. No, not a spark. You are quite strong enough +to ride out in your own elegant carriage but with the doctor!—O, +dear, no! If you were certain of not meeting Mrs. McFlimsey, perhaps +the experiment might be adventured. But she is always out on fine +days." +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor, for shame! How can you say that?" +</P> + +<P> +And a ghost of color crept into the face of Mrs. Carleton, while her +eyes grew brighter—almost flashed. +</P> + +<P> +The maid came in with shawl and bonnet. Dr. Farleigh, as we have +intimated, understood his patient, and said just two or three words +more, in a tone half contemptuous. +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid of Mrs. McFlimsey!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not I; nor of forty Mrs. McFlimseys!" +</P> + +<P> +It was not the ghost of color that warmed Mrs. Carleton's face now, +but the crimson of a quicker and stronger heart-beat. She actually +arose from her chair without reaching for her maid's hand and stood +firmly while the shawl was adjusted and the bonnet-strings tied. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall have a charming ride," said the doctor, as he crowded in +beside his fashionable lady companion, and took up the loose reins. +He noticed that she sat up erectly, and with scarcely a sign of the +languor that but a few minutes before had so oppressed her. "Lean +back when you see Mrs. McFlimsey's carriage, and draw your veil +closely. She'll never dream that it's you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get angry if you play on that string much longer!" exclaimed +Mrs. Carleton; "what do I care for Mrs. McFlimsey?" +</P> + +<P> +How charmingly the rose tints flushed her cheeks! How the light +rippled in her dark sweet eyes, that were leaden a little while +before! +</P> + +<P> +Away from the noisy streets, out upon the smoothly-beaten road, and +amid green field and woodlands, gardens and flower-decked orchards, +the doctor bore his patient, holding her all the while in pleasant +talk. How different this from the listless, companionless drives +taken by the lady in her own carriage—a kind of easy, vibrating +machine, that quickened the sluggish blood no more than a cushioned +rocking chair! +</P> + +<P> +Closely the doctor observed his patient. He saw how erectly she +continued to sit; how the color deepened in her face, which actually +seemed rounder and fuller; how the sense of enjoyment fairly danced +in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Returning to the city by a different road, the doctor, after driving +through streets entirely unfamiliar to his companion, drew up his +horse before a row of mean-looking dwellings, and dropping the +reins, threw open the carriage door, and stepped upon the +pavement—at the same time reaching out his hand to Mrs. Carleton. +But she drew back, saying,— +</P> + +<P> +"What is the meaning of this, doctor?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have a patient here, and I want you to see her." +</P> + +<P> +"O, no; excuse me, doctor. I've no taste for such things," answered +the lady. +</P> + +<P> +"Come—I can't leave you alone in the carriage. Ned might take a +fancy to walk off with you." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Carleton glanced at the patient old horse, whom the doctor was +slandering, with a slightly alarmed manner. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think he'll stand, doctor?" she asked, uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"He likes to get home, like others of his tribe. Come;" and the +doctor held out his hand in a persistent way. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Carleton looked at the poor tenements before which the doctor's +carriage had stopped with something of disgust and something of +apprehension. +</P> + +<P> +"I can never go in there, doctor." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I might take some disease." +</P> + +<P> +"Never fear. More likely to find a panacea there." +</P> + +<P> +The last sentence was in an undertone. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Carleton left the carriage, and crossing the pavement, entered +one of the houses, and passed up with the doctor to the second +story. To his light tap at a chamber door a woman's voice said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Come in." +</P> + +<P> +The door was pushed open, and the doctor and Mrs. Carleton went in. +The room was small, and furnished in the humblest manner, but the +air was pure, and everything looked clean and tidy. In a chair, with +a pillow pressed in at her back for a support, sat a pale, emaciated +woman, whose large, bright eyes looked up eagerly, and in a kind of +hopeful surprise, at so unexpected a visitor as the lady who came in +with the doctor. On her lap a baby was sleeping, as sweet, and pure, +and beautiful a baby as ever Mrs. Carleton had looked upon. The +first impulse of her true woman's heart, had she yielded to it, +would have prompted her to take it in her arms and cover it with +kisses. +</P> + +<P> +The woman was too weak to rise from her chair, but she asked Mrs. +Carleton to be seated in a tone of lady-like self-possession that +did not escape the visitor's observation. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you pass the night, Mrs. Leslie?" asked the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"About as usual," was answered, in a calm, patient way; and she even +smiled as she spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"How about the pain through your side and shoulder?" +</P> + +<P> +"It may have been a little easier." +</P> + +<P> +"You slept?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"What of the night sweats?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think they have diminished any." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor beat his eyes to the floor, and sat in silence for some +time. The heart of Mrs. Carleton was opening towards—the baby and it +was a baby to make its way into any heart. She had forgotten her own +weakness—forgotten, in the presence of this wan and wasted mother, +with a sleeping cherub on her lap, all about her own invalid state. +</P> + +<P> +"I will send you a new medicine," said the doctor, looking up; then +speaking to Mrs. Carleton, he added,— +</P> + +<P> +"Will you sit here until I visit two or three patients in the +block?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, certainly," and she reached out her arms for the baby, and +removed it so gently from its mother's lap that its soft slumber was +not broken. When the doctor returned he noticed that there had been +tears in Mrs. Carleton's eyes. She was still holding the baby, but +now resigned the quiet sleeper to its mother, kissing it as she did +so. He saw her look with a tender, meaning interest at the white, +patient face of the sick woman, and heard her say, as she spoke a +word or two in parting,— +</P> + +<P> +"I shall not forget you." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a sad case, doctor," remarked the lady, as she took her +place in the carriage. +</P> + +<P> +"It is. But she is sweet and patient." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw that, and it filled me with surprise. She tells me that her +husband died a year ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And that she has supported herself by shirt-making." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"But that she had become too feeble for work, and is dependent on a +younger sister, who earns a few dollars, weekly, at book-folding." +</P> + +<P> +"The simple story, I believe," said the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Carleton was silent for most of the way home; but thought was +busy. She had seen a phase of life that touched her deeply. +</P> + +<P> +"You are better for this ride," remarked the doctor, as he handed +her from the carriage. +</P> + +<P> +"I think so," replied Mrs. Carleton. +</P> + +<P> +"There has not been so fine a color on your face for months." +</P> + +<P> +They had entered Mrs. Carleton's elegant residence, and were sitting +in one of her luxurious parlors. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I tell you why?" added the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Carleton bowed. +</P> + +<P> +"You have had some healthy heart-beats." +</P> + +<P> +She did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"And I pray you, dear madam, let the strokes go on," continued Dr. +Farleigh. "Let your mind become interested in some good work, and +your hands obey your thoughts, and you will be a healthy woman, in +body and soul. Your disease is mental inaction." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Carleton looked steadily at the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"You are in earnest," she said, in a calm, firm way. +</P> + +<P> +"Wholly in earnest, ma'am. I found you, an hour ago, in so weak a +state that to lift your hand was an exhausting effort. You are +sitting erect now, with every muscle tautly strung. When will your +carriage be home?" +</P> + +<P> +He asked the closing question abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow," was replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will not call for you, but—" +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Say on, doctor." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you take my prescription?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." There was no hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +"You must give that sick woman a ride into the country. The fresh, +pure, blossom-sweet air will do her good—may, indeed, turn the +balance of health in her favor. Don't be afraid of Mrs. McFlimsey." +</P> + +<P> +"For shame, doctor! But you are too late in your suggestion. I'm +quite ahead of you." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah! in what respect?" +</P> + +<P> +"That drive into the country is already a settled thing. Do you +know, I'm in love with that baby?" +</P> + +<P> +"Othello's occupation's gone, I see!" returned the doctor, rising. +"But I may visit you occasionally as a friend, I presume, if not as +a medical adviser?" +</P> + +<P> +"As my best friend, always," said Mrs. Carleton, with feeling. "You +have led me out of myself, and showed me the way to health and +happiness; and I have settled the question as to my future. It shall +not be as the past." +</P> + +<P> +And it was not. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HADN'T TIME FOR TROUBLE. +</H3> + +<P> +MRS. CALDWELL was so unfortunate as to have a rich husband. Not that +the possession of a rich husband is to be declared a misfortune, +<I>per se</I>, but, considering the temperament of Mrs. Caldwell, the +fact was against her happiness, and therefore is to be regarded, +taking the ordinary significance, of the term, as unfortunate. +</P> + +<P> +Wealth gave Mrs. Caldwell leisure for ease and luxurious +self-indulgence, and she accepted the privileges of her condition. +Some minds, when not under the spur, sink naturally into, a state of +inertia, from which, when any touch of the spur reaches them, they +spring up with signs of fretfulness. The wife and mother, no matter +what her condition, who yields to this inertia, cannot escape the +spur. Children and servant, excepting all other causes, will not +spare the pricking heel. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caldwell was, by nature, a kind-hearted woman, and not lacking +in good sense. But for the misfortune of having a rich husband, she +might have spent an active, useful, happy life. It was the +opportunity which abundance gave for idleness and ease that marred +everything. Order in a household, and discipline among children, do +not come spontaneously. They are the result of wise forecast, and +patient, untiring, never-relaxing effort. A mere conviction of duty +is rarely found to be sufficient incentive; there must be the +impelling force of some strong-handed necessity. In the case of Mrs. +Caldwell, this did not exist; and so she failed in the creation of +that order in her family without which permanent tranquillity is +impossible. In all lives are instructive episodes, and interesting +as instructive. Let us take one of them from the life of this lady, +whose chief misfortune was in being rich. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caldwell's brow was clouded. It was never, for a very long +time, free from, clouds, for it seemed as if all sources of worry +and vexation were on the increase; and, to make matters worse, +patience was assuredly on the decline. Little things, once scarcely +observed, now give sharp annoyance, there being rarely any +discrimination and whether they were of accident, neglect, or +wilfulness. +</P> + +<P> +"Phoebe!" she called, fretfully. +</P> + +<P> +The voice of her daughter answered, half-indifferently, from the +next room. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you come when I call you?" Anger now mingled with +fretfulness. +</P> + +<P> +The face of a girl in her seventeenth year, on which sat no very +amiable expression, was presented at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that your opera cloak lying across the chair, and partly on the +floor?" +</P> + +<P> +Phoebe, without answering, crossed the room, and catching up the +garment with as little carefulness as if it had been an old shawl +threw it across her arm, and was retiring, when her mother said, +sharply,— +</P> + +<P> +"Just see how you are rumpling that cloak! What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not hurting the cloak, mother," answered Phoebe, coolly. Then, +with a shade of reproof, she added, "You fret yourself for nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you call it nothing to abuse an elegant garment like that?" +demanded Mrs. Caldwell. "To throw it upon the floor, and tumble it +about as if it were an old rag?" +</P> + +<P> +"All of which, mother mine, I have not done." And the girl tossed +her head with an air of light indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk to me in that way, Phoebe! I'll not suffer it. You are +forgetting yourself." The mother spoke with a sternness of manner +that caused her daughter to remain silent. As they stood looking at +each other, Mrs. Caldwell said, in a changed voice,— +</P> + +<P> +"What is that on your front tooth?" +</P> + +<P> +"A speck of something, I don't know what; I noticed it only +yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caldwell crossed the room hastily, with a disturbed manner, +and catching hold of Phoebe's arm, drew her to a window. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see!" and she looked narrowly at the tooth, "Decay, as I +live!" The last sentence was uttered in a tone of alarm. "You must +go to the dentist immediately. This is dreadful! If your teeth are +beginning to fail now, you'll not have one left in your head by the +time you're twenty-five." +</P> + +<P> +"It's only a speck," said Phoebe, evincing little concern. +</P> + +<P> +"A speck! I And do you know what a speck means?" demanded Mrs. +Caldwell, with no chance in the troubled expression of her face. +</P> + +<P> +"What does it mean?" asked Phoebe. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it means that the quality of your teeth is not good. One speck +is only the herald of another. Next week a second tooth may show +signs of decay, and a third in the week afterwards. Dear—dear! This +is too bad! The fact is, you are destroying your health. I've talked +and talked about the way you devour candies and sweetmeats; about +the way you sit up at night, and about a hundred other irregularities. +There must be a change in all. This, Phoebe, as I've told you dozens +and dozens of times." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Caldwell was growing more and more excited. +</P> + +<P> +"Mother! mother!" replied Phoebe, "don't fret yourself for nothing. +The speck can be removed in an instant." +</P> + +<P> +"But the enamel is destroyed! Don't you see that? Decay will go on." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe that follows at all," answered Phoebe, tossing her +head, indifferently, "And even if I believed in the worst, I'd find +more comfort in laughing than crying." And she ran off to her own +room. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Mrs. Caldwell sat down to brood over this new trouble; and as +she brooded, fancy wrought for her the most unpleasing images. +</P> + +<P> +She saw the beauty of Phoebe, a few years later in life, most sadly +marred by broken or discolored teeth. Looking at that, and that +alone, it magnified itself into a calamity, grew to an evil which +overshadowed everything. +</P> + +<P> +She was still tormenting herself about the prospect of Phoebe's loss +of teeth, when, in passing through her elegantly-furnished parlors, +her eyes fell on a pale acid stain, about the size of a shilling +piece, one of the rich figures in the carpet. The color of this +figure was maroon, and the stain, in consequence, distinct; at +least, it became very distinct to her eye as they dwelt upon it as +if held there by a kind of fascination. +</P> + +<P> +Indeed, for a while, Mrs. Caldwell could see nothing else but this +spot on the carpet; no, not even though she turned her eyes in +various directions, the retina keeping that image to the exclusion +of all others. +</P> + +<P> +While yet in the gall of this new bitterness, Mrs. Caldwell heard a +carriage stop in front of the house, and, glancing through the +window, saw that it was on the opposite side of the street. She knew +it to be the carriage of a lady whose rank made her favor a +desirable thing to all who were emulous of social distinction. To be +of her set was a coveted honor. For her friend and neighbor +opposite, Mrs. Caldwell did not feel the highest regard; and it +rather hurt her to see the first call made in that quarter, instead +of upon herself. It was no very agreeable thought, that this +lady-queen of fashion, so much courted and regarded, might really +think most highly of her neighbor opposite. To be second to her, +touched the quick of pride, and hurt. +</P> + +<P> +Only a card was left. Then the lady reentered her carriage. What? +Driving away? Even so. Mrs. Caldwell was not even honored by a call! +This was penetrating the quick. What could it mean? Was she to be +ruled out of this lady's set? The thought was like a wounding arrow +to her soul. +</P> + +<P> +Unhappy Mrs. Caldwell! Her daughter's careless habits; the warning +sign of decay among her pearly teeth; the stain on a beautiful +carpet, and, worse than all as a pain-giver, this slight from a +magnate of fashion;—were not these enough to cast a gloom over the +state of a woman who had everything towards happiness that wealth +and social station could give, but did not know how to extract from +them the blessing they had power to bestow? Slowly, and with +oppressed feelings, she left the parlors, and went up stairs. Half +an hour later, as she sat alone, engaged in the miserable work of +weaving out of the lightest material a very pall of shadows for her +soul, a servant came to the door, and announced a visitor. It was an +intimate friend, whom she could not refuse to see—a lady named Mrs. +Bland. +</P> + +<P> +"How are you, Mrs. Caldwell?" said the visitor, as the two ladies +met. +</P> + +<P> +"Miserable," was answered. And not even the ghost of a smile played +over the unhappy face. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sick?" asked Mrs. Bland, showing some concern. +</P> + +<P> +"No, not exactly sick. But, somehow or other, I'm in a worry about +things all the while. I can't move a step in any direction without +coming against the pricks. It seems as though all things were +conspiring against me." +</P> + +<P> +And then Mrs. Caldwell went, with her friend, through the whole +series of her morning troubles, ending with the sentence,— +</P> + +<P> +"Now, don't you think I am beset? Why, Mrs. Bland, I'm in a +purgatory." +</P> + +<P> +"A purgatory of your own creating, my friend," answered Mrs. Bland +with the plainness of speech warranted by the intimacy of their +friendship; "and my advice is to come out of it as quickly as +possible." +</P> + +<P> +"Come out of it! That is easily said. Will you show me the way?" +</P> + +<P> +"At some other time perhaps. But this morning I have something else +on hand. I've called for you to go with me on an errand of mercy." +</P> + +<P> +There was no Christian response in the face of Mrs. Caldwell. She +was too deep amid the gloom of her own, wretched state to have +sympathy for others. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary Brady is in trouble," said Mrs. Bland. +</P> + +<P> +"What has happened?" Mrs. Caldwell was alive with interest in a +moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Her husband fell through a hatchway yesterday, and came near being +killed." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Bland!" +</P> + +<P> +"The escape was miraculous." +</P> + +<P> +"Is he badly injured?" +</P> + +<P> +"A leg and two ribs broken. Nothing more, I believe. But that is a +very serious thing, especially where the man's labor is his family's +sole dependence." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Mary!" said Mrs. Caldwell, in real sympathy. "In what a +dreadful state she must be! I pity her from the bottom of my heart." +</P> + +<P> +"Put on your things, and let us go and see her at once." +</P> + +<P> +Now, it is never a pleasant thing for persons like Mrs. Caldwell to +look other people's troubles directly in the face. It is bad enough +to dwell among their own pains and annoyances, and they shrink from +meddling with another's griefs. But, in the present case, Mrs. +Caldwell, moved by a sense of duty and a feeling of interest in Mrs. +Brady, who had, years before, been a faithful domestic in her +mother's house, was, constrained to overcome all reluctance, and +join her friend in the proposed visit of mercy. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Mary! What a state she must be in!" +</P> + +<P> +Three or four times did Mrs. Caldwell repeat this sentence, as they +walked towards that part of the town in which Mrs. Brady resided. +"It makes me sick, at heart to think of it," she added. +</P> + +<P> +At last they stood at the door of a small brick house, in a narrow +street, and knocked. Mrs. Caldwell dreaded to enter, and even shrank +a little behind her friend when she heard a hand on the lock. It was +Mary who opened the door—Mary Brady, with scarcely a sign of change +in her countenance, except that it was a trifle paler. +</P> + +<P> +"O! Come in!" she said, a smile of pleasure brightening over her +face. But Mrs. Caldwell could not smile in return. It seemed to her +as if it would be a mockery of the trouble which had come down upon +that humble dwelling. +</P> + +<P> +"How is your husband, Mary?" she asked with a solemn face, as soon +as they had entered. "I only heard a little while ago of this +dreadful occurrence." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, ma'am," replied Mrs. Brady, her countenance hardly +falling to a serious tone in its expression. "He's quite comfortable +to-day; and it's such a relief to see him out of pain. He suffered +considerably through the night, but fell asleep just at day dawn, +and slept for several hours. He awoke almost entirely free from +pain." +</P> + +<P> +"There are no internal injuries, I believe," said Mrs. Bland. +</P> + +<P> +"None, the doctor says. And I'm so thankful. Broken bones are bad +enough, and it is hard to see as kind and good a husband as I have +suffer,"—Mary's eyes grew wet, "but they will knit and become strong +again. When I think how much worse it might have been, I am +condemned for the slightest murmur that escapes my lips." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do, Mary?" asked Mrs. Caldwell. "Your husband +won't be fit for work in a month, and you have a good many mouths to +fill." +</P> + +<P> +"A woman's wit and a woman's will can do a great deal," answered +Mrs. Brady, cheerfully. "You see"—pointing to a table, on which lay +a bundle—"that I have already been to the tailor's for work. I'm a +quick sewer, and not afraid but what I can earn sufficient to keep +the pot boiling until John is strong enough to go to work again. +'Where there's a will, there's a way,' Mrs. Caldwell. I've found +that true so far, and I reckon it will be true to the end. John will +have a good resting spell, poor man! And, dear knows, he's a right +to have it, for he's worked hard, and with scarcely a holiday, since +we were married." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, Mary," said Mrs. Caldwell, in manifest surprise, "you +beat me out! I can't understand it. Here you are, under +circumstances that I should call of a most distressing and +disheartening nature, almost as cheerful as if nothing had happened. +I expected to find you overwhelmed with trouble, but, instead, you +are almost as tranquil as a June day." +</P> + +<P> +"The truth is," replied Mrs. Brady, drawing, almost for shame, a +veil of sobriety over her face, "I've had no time to be troubled. If +I'd given up, and set myself down with folded hands, no doubt I +should have been miserable enough. But that isn't my way, you see. +Thinking about what I shall do, and their doing it, keep me so well +employed, that I don't get opportunity to look on the dark side of +things. And what would be the use? There's always a bright side as +well as a dark side, and I'm sure it's pleasant to be on the bright +side, if we can get there; and always try to manage it, somehow." +</P> + +<P> +"Your secret is worth knowing, Mary," said Mrs. Bland. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no secret about it," answered the poor woman, "unless it be +in always keeping busy. As I said just now, I've no time to be +troubled, and so trouble, after knocking a few times at my door, and +not gaining admittance, passes on to some other that stands ajar—and +there are a great many such. The fact is, trouble don't like to +crowd in among busy people, for they jostle her about, and never +give her a quiet resting place, and so she soon departs, and creeps +in among the idle ones. I can't give any better explanation, Mrs. +Bland." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor, may be, could the wisest philosopher that lives," returned +that lady. +</P> + +<P> +The two friends, after promising to furnish Mrs. Brady with an +abundance of lighter and more profitable sewing than she had +obtained at a clothier's, and saying and doing whatever else they +felt to be best under the circumstances, departed. For the distance +of a block they walked in silence. Mrs. Caldwell spoke first. +</P> + +<P> +"I am rebuked," she said; "rebuked, as well as instructed. Above all +places in the world, I least expected to receive a lesson there." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it not worth remembering?" asked the friend. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish it were engraved in ineffaceable characters on my heart. Ah, +what a miserable self-tormentor I have been! The door of my heart +stand always ajar, as Mary said, and trouble comes gliding in that +all times, without so much as a knock to herald his coming. I must +shut and bar the door!" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut it, and bar it, my friend!" answered Mrs. Bland. "And when +trouble knocks, say to her, that you are too busy with orderly and +useful things—too earnestly at work in discharging dutiful +obligations, in the larger sphere, which, by virtue of larger means, +is yours to work in—to have any leisure for her poor companionship, +and she will not tarry on your threshold. Throw to the winds such +light causes of unhappiness as were suffered to depress you this +morning, and they will be swept away like thistle down." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't speak of them. My cheek burns at the remembrance," said Mrs. +Caldwell. +</P> + +<P> +They now stood at Mrs. Caldwell's door. +</P> + +<P> +"You will come in?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. The morning has passed, and I must return home." +</P> + +<P> +"When shall I see you?" Mrs. Caldwell grasped tightly her friends' +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"In a day or two." +</P> + +<P> +"Come to-morrow, and help me to learn in this new book that has been +opened. I shall need a wise and a patient teacher. Come, good, true, +kind friend!" +</P> + +<P> +"Give yourself no time for trouble," said Mrs. Bland, with a tender, +encouraging smile. "Let true thoughts and useful deeds fill all your +hours. This is the first lesson. Well in the heart, and all the rest +is easy." +</P> + +<P> +And so, Mrs. Caldwell found it. The new life she strove to lead, was +easy just in the degree she lived in the spirit of this lesson, and +hard just in the degree of her departure. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A GOOD NAME. +</H3> + +<P> +TWO boys, named Jacob Peters and Ralph Gilpin were passing along +Chestnut Street one evening about ten years ago, when one of them, +stopped, and said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Ralph, let us have some oysters. I've got a quarter." They +were in front of an oyster-cellar. +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Ralph, firmly. "I'm not going down there." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean that we should get anything to drink," replied the +other. +</P> + +<P> +"No matter: they sell liquor, and I don't wish to be seen in such a +place." +</P> + +<P> +"That's silly," said Jacob Peters, speaking with some warmth. "It +can't hurt you to be seen there. They sell oysters, and all we +should go there for would be to buy oysters. Come along. Don't be +foolish!" And Jacob grasped the arm of Ralph, and tried to draw him +towards the refectory. But Ralph stood immovable. +</P> + +<P> +"What harm can it do?" asked Jacob. +</P> + +<P> +"It might do at great deal of harm." +</P> + +<P> +"In what way?" +</P> + +<P> +"By hurting my good name." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand you." +</P> + +<P> +"I might be seen going in or coming out by some one who know me, and +who might take it for granted that my visit, was for liquor." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, suppose he did? He would be wrong in his inference; and what +need you care? A clear conscience, I have heard my uncle say, is +better than any man's opinion, good or bad." +</P> + +<P> +"I prefer the clear conscience and the good opinion together, if I +can secure both at the same time," said Ralph. +</P> + +<P> +"O, you're too afraid of other people's opinions," replied Jacob, in +a sneering manner. "As for me, I'll try to do right and be right, +and not bother myself about what people may think. Come, are you +going to join me in a plate of oysters?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. Good by. I'm sorry you're afraid to do right for fear +somebody may think you're going to do wrong," and Jacob Peters +descended to the oyster-cellar, while Ralph Gilpin passed on his way +homeward. As Jacob entered the saloon he met a man who looked at him +narrowly, and as Jacob thought, with surprise. He had seen this man +before, but did not know his name. +</P> + +<P> +A few weeks afterwards, the two boys, who were neighbor, sat +together planning a row-boat excursion on the Schuylkill. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have Harry Elder, and Dick Jones, and Tom Forsyth," said +Jacob. +</P> + +<P> +"No, not Tom Forsyth," objected Ralph. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? He's a splendid rower." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't wish to be seen in his company," said Ralph. "He doesn't +bear a good character." +</P> + +<P> +"O, well; that's nothing to us." +</P> + +<P> +"I think it is a great deal to us. We are judged by the company we +keep." +</P> + +<P> +"Let people judge; who cares?" replied Jacob; "not I." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I do, then," answered Ralph. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to see a boy so 'fraid of a shadow as you are." +</P> + +<P> +"A tainted name is no shadow; but a real evil to be afraid of." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how our taking Tom Forsyth along is going to taint your +name, or mine either." +</P> + +<P> +"He's a bad boy," Ralph firmly objected. "He uses profane language. +You and I have both seen him foolish from drink. And we know that he +was sent home from a good place, under circumstances that threw +suspicion on his honesty. This being so, I am not going to be seen +in his company. I think too much of my good name." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Ralph," urged Jacob, in a persuasive manner, "he's such a +splendid rower. Don't be foolish about it; nobody'll see us. And we +shall have such a grand time. I'll make him promise not to use a +wicked word all day." +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use to talk, Jacob. I'm not going in company with Tom +Forsyth if I never go boating." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a fool!" exclaimed Jacob, losing his temper. +</P> + +<P> +Ralph's face burned with anger, but he kept back the sharp words +that sprung to his lips, and after a few moments said, with forced +composure,— +</P> + +<P> +"There's no use in you're getting mad about it, Jacob. If you prefer +Tom to me, very well. I haven't set my heart on going." +</P> + +<P> +"I've spoken to Tom already," said Jacob, cooling off a little. "And +he's promised to go; so there's no getting away from it. I'm sorry +you're so over nice." +</P> + +<P> +The rowing party came off, but Ralph was not of the number. As the +boys were getting into the boat at Fairmount, Jacob noticed two or +three men standing on the wharf; and on lifting his eyes to the face +of one of them, he recognized the same individual who had looked at +him so intently as he entered the oyster saloon. The man's eyes +rested upon him for a few moments, and then turned to the boy, Tom +Forsyth. Young Peters might have been mistaken, but he thought he +saw on the man's face a look of surprise and disapprobation. Somehow +or other he did not feel very comfortable in mind as the boat pushed +off from shore. Who was this man? and why had he looked at him twice +so intently, and with something of disapproval in his face? +</P> + +<P> +Jacob Peters was fifteen years old. He had left school a few weeks +before, and his father was desirous of getting him into a large +whole-sale house, on Market Street. A friend was acquainted with a +member of the firm, and through his kind offices he hoped to make +the arrangement. Some conversation had already taken place between +the friend and merchant, who said they wished another lad in the +store, but were very particular as to the character of their boys. +The friend assured him that Jacob was a lad of excellent character; +and depending on this assurance, a preliminary engagement had been +made, Jacob was to go into the store just one week from the day on +which he went on the boating excursion. Both his own surprise and +that of his father may be imagined when a note came, saying that the +firm in Market Street had changed its views in regard to a lad, and +would not require the services of Jacob Peters. +</P> + +<P> +The father sent back a polite note, expressing regret at the change +of view, and asking that his son should still be borne in mind, as +he would prefer that situation for him to any other in the city. +Jacob was the bearer of this note. When he entered the store, the +first person he met was the man who looked at him so closely in the +oyster saloon and on the wharf at Fairmount. Jacob handed him the +note, which he opened and read, and then gave him cold bow. +</P> + +<P> +A glimpse of the truth passed through Jacob's mind. He had been +misjudged, and here was the unhappy result. His good name had +suffered, and yet he had done nothing actually wrong. But boys, like +men, are judged by the company they keep and the places in which +they are seen. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going into a store next week," said Ralph Gilpin, to his friend +Jacob, about a week afterwards. +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" asked Jacob. +</P> + +<P> +"On Market Street." +</P> + +<P> +"In what store?" +</P> + +<P> +"In A. & L.'s," replied Ralph. +</P> + +<P> +"O, no!" ejaculated Jacob, his face flushing, "not there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Ralph. "I'm going to A. & L.'s. Father got me the +place. Don't you think I'm lucky? They're very particular about the +boys they taking that store. Father says he considers their choice +of me quite a compliment. I'm sure I feel proud enough about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I think they acted very meanly," said Jacob, showing sonic +anger. "They promised father that I should have the place." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure about that?" asked the young friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I am. I was to go there this week. But they sent father a +note, saying they had changed their minds about a boy." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," suggested Ralph, "it you were seen going into a drinking +saloons or in company with Tom Forsyth. You remember what I said to +you about preserving a good name." +</P> + +<P> +Jacob's face colored, and his eyes fell to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"O, that's only your guess," he replied, tossing his head, and +putting on an incredulous look; but he felt in his heart that the +suggestion of Ralph was true. +</P> + +<P> +It was over six months before Jacob Peters was successful in getting +a place, and then he had to go into a third-rate establishment, +where the opportunity for advancement was small, and where his +associates were not of the best character. +</P> + +<P> +The years passed on; and Ralph continued as careful as in the +beginning to preserve a good name. He was not content simply with +doing right; but felt that it was a duty to himself, and to all who +might, in any way be dependent on him, to appear right also. He was, +therefore, particular in regard to the company he kept and the +places he visited. Jacob, on the contrary, continued to let +inclination rather than prudence govern him in these matters. His +habits were probably as good as those of Ralph, and his business +capacity fully equal. But he was not regarded with the same favor, +for he was often seen in company with young men known to be of loose +morals, and would occasionally, visit billiard-saloons, +tenpin-alleys, and other places where men of disreputable character +are found. His father, who observed Jacob closely, remonstrated with +him occasionally as the boy advanced towards manhood; but Jacob put +on an independent air, and replied that he went on the principle of +being right with himself. "You can't," he would say, "keep free from +misjudgment, do what you will. Men are always more inclined to think +evil of each other than good. I do nothing that I'm ashamed of." +</P> + +<P> +So he continued to go where he pleased, and to associate with whom +he pleased, not caring what people might say. +</P> + +<P> +It is no very easy thing for as young man to make his way in the +world. All the avenues to success are thickly crowded with men of +talent, industry, and energy, and many favorable circumstances must +conspire to help him who gets very far in advance. Talent and +industry are wanted in business, but the passport of a good +character must accompany them, or they cannot be made rightly +available to their possessor. It is, therefore, of the first +importance to preserved a good name, for this, if united with +ability and industry, with double your chances of success in life; +for men will put confidence in you beyond what they can in others, +who do not stand so fairly in common estimation. +</P> + +<P> +In due time Ralph Gilpin and Jacob Peters entered the world as men, +but not at equal advantage. They had learned the same business, and +were both well acquainted with its details; but Ralph stood fairer +in the eyes of business men, with whom he had come in contact, +because he had been more careful about his reputation. +</P> + +<P> +While Jacob was twenty-three years of age, he was getting a salary +of one thousand dollars a year; but this was too small a sum to meet +the demands that had come upon him. His father, to whom he was +tenderly attached, had lost his health and failed in business. In +consequence of this, the burden of maintaining the family fell +almost entirely on Jacob. It would not have been felt as a burden if +his income had been sufficient for their support. But it was not, +unless their comfortable style of living was changed, and all shrunk +together in a smaller house. He had sisters just advancing towards +womanhood, and for their sakes, particularly, did he regret the +stern necessity that required a change. +</P> + +<P> +About this time, the death of a responsible clerk in the house of A. +& L. left a vacancy to be filled, and as Jacob was in every way +competent to take the position, which commanded a salary of eighteen +hundred dollars he made application; Ralph Gilpin, who was a +salesman in the house, said all that he could in Jacob's favor; but +the latter had not been careful to preserve a good name, and this +was against him. The place was one of trust, and the members of the +firm, after considering the matter, decided adversely. Nothing as to +fact was alleged or known. Not a word as to his conduct in life was +said against him. But he had often been seen in company with young +men who did not bear a solid reputation, and where doubt existed, it +was not considered safe to employ him. So that good opportunity was +lost—lost through his own fault. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Jacob felt gloomy and disappointed for a time; talked of +"fate," "bad luck," and all that kind of nonsense, when the cause of +his ill-success was to be attributed solely to an unwise disregard +of appearances. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall have to remove," he said to his mother in a troubled way, +after this disappointment. "If I had secured the situation at A. & +L.'s all would have been well with us. But now nothing remains but +to seek a humbler place to remain here will only involve us in debt; +and that, above all things, we must avoid. I am sorry for Jane and +Alice; but it can't be helped." +</P> + +<P> +His mother tried to answer cheerfully and hopefully: but her words +did not dispel a single shadow from his mind. A few days after this, +a gentleman said to Jacob Peters,— +</P> + +<P> +"I'll give you a hint of something that is coming in the way of good +fortune. A gentleman, whose name I do not feel at liberty to +mention, contemplates going into your business. He has plenty of +capital, and wishes to unite himself with a young, active, and +experienced man. Two or three have been thought of—you among the +rest; find I believe it has been finally settled that Jacob Peters +is to be the man. So let me congratulate you, my young friend, on +this good fortune." +</P> + +<P> +And he grasped the hand of Jacob, and shook it warmly. From the vale +of despondency, the young man was at once elevated to the +mountain-top of hope, and felt, for a time, bewildered in prospect +of the good fortune awaited him. +</P> + +<P> +Almost in that very hour the capitalist, to whom his friend +referred, was in conversation with Mr. A., of the firm of A. & L. +</P> + +<P> +"I have about concluded to associate with myself in business young +Jacob Peters," said the former; "but before coming to a final +conclusion, I thought it best to ask your opinion in the matter. You +know the young man?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Mr. A., "I have known him in a business way for +several years. We have considerable dealing with the house in which +he is employed." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is a young man of decided business qualities." +</P> + +<P> +"So it appear's to me. And you think favorably of him?" +</P> + +<P> +"As to the business qualification I do," replied Mr. A., placing an +emphasis on the word business. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you do not think favorably of him in some other respect?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. A. was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope," said the other, "that you will speak out plainly. This is +a matter, to me, of the first importance. If you know of any reason +why I should not associate this young man with me in business I +trust you will speak without reserve." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. A. remained silent for some moments, and then said,— +</P> + +<P> +"I feel considerably embarrassed in regard to this matter. I would +on no account give a wrong impression in regard to the young man. He +may be all right; is all right, perhaps; but—" +</P> + +<P> +"But what, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have seen him in company with young men whose characters are not +fair. And I have seen him entering into and coming out of places +where it is not always safe to go." +</P> + +<P> +"Enough, sir, enough!" said the gentleman, emphatically, "The matter +is settled. It may be all right with him, as you say. I hope it is. +But he can never be a partner of mine. And now, passing from him, I +wish to ask about another young man, who has been in my mind second +to Peters. He is in your employment." +</P> + +<P> +"Ralph Gilpin, you mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"In every way unexceptionable. I can speak of him with the utmost +confidence. He is right in all respects—right as to the business +quality, right as to character, and right as to associations. You +could not have a better man." +</P> + +<P> +"The matter is settled, then," replied the gentleman. "I will take +Ralph Gilpin if neither you nor he objects." +</P> + +<P> +"There will be no objection on either side, I can answer for that," +said Mr. A., and the interview closed. +</P> + +<P> +From the mountain-top of hope, away down into the dark vale of +despondency, passed Jacob Peters, when it was told him that Ralph +Gilpin was to be a partner in the new firm which he had expected to +enter. +</P> + +<P> +"And so nothing is left to us," he said to himself, in bitterness of +spirit, "but go down, while others, no better than we are, move +steadily upwards. Why should Ralph Gilpin be preferred before me? He +has no higher ability nor stricter integrity. He cannot be more +faithful, more earnest, or more active than I would have been in the +new position. But I am set aside and he is taken. It is a bitter, +bitter disappointment!" +</P> + +<P> +Three years have passed, and Ralph Gilpin is on the road to fortune, +while Jacob Peters remains a clerk. And why? The one was careful of +his good name; the other was not. +</P> + +<P> +My young reader, take the lesson to heart. Guard well your good +name; and as name signifies quality, by all means guard your spirit, +so that no evil thing enter there; and your good name shall be only +the expression of your good quality. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +X. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LITTLE LIZZIE. +</H3> + +<P> +"IF they wouldn't let him have it!" said Mrs. Leslie, weeping. "O, +if they wouldn't sell him liquor, there'd be no trouble! He's one of +the best of men when he doesn't drink. He never brings liquor into +the house; and he tries hard enough, I know, to keep sober, but he +cannot pass Jenks's tavern." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Leslie was talking with a sympathizing neighbor, who responded, +by saying, that she wished the tavern would burn down, and that, for +her part, she didn't feel any too good to apply fire to the place +herself. Mrs. Leslie sighed, and wiped away the tears with her +checked apron. +</P> + +<P> +"It's hard, indeed, it is," she murmured, "to see a man like Jenks +growing richer and richer every day out of the earnings of poor +working-men, whose families are in want of bread. For every sixpence +that goes over his counter some one is made poorer—to some heart is +given a throb of pain." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a downright shame!" exclaimed the neighbor, immediately. "If I +had my way with the lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, I'd see that he +did something useful, if it was to break stone on the road. Were it +my husband, instead of yours, that he enticed into his bar, depend +on't he'd get himself into trouble." +</P> + +<P> +While this conversation was going on, a little girl, not over ten +years of age, sat listening attentively. After a while she went +quietly from the room, and throwing her apron over head, took her +way, unobserved by her mother, down the road. +</P> + +<P> +Where was little Lizzie going? There was a purpose in her mind: She +had started on a mission. "O, if they wouldn't sell him liquor!" +These earnest, tearful words of her, mother had filled her thoughts. +If Mr. Jenks wouldn't sell her father anything to drink, "there +would be no more trouble." How simple, how direct the remedy! She +would go to Mr. Jenks, and ask him not to let her father have any +more liquor, and then all would be well again. Artless, innocent +child! And this was her mission. +</P> + +<P> +The tavern kept by Jenks, the laziest man in Milanville,—he was too +lazy to work, and therefore went to tavern-keeping,—stood nearly a +quarter of a mile from the poor tenement occupied by the Leslies. +Towards this point, under a hot, sultry sun, little Lizzie made her +way, her mind so filled with its purpose that she was unconscious of +heat of fatigue. +</P> + +<P> +Not long before a traveller alighted at the tavern. After giving +directions to have his horses fed, he entered the bar-room, and went +to where Jenks stood, behind the counter. +</P> + +<P> +"Have something to drink?" inquired the landlord. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take a glass of water, if you please." +</P> + +<P> +Jenks could not hide the indifference at once felt towards the +stranger. Very deliberately he set a pitcher and a glass upon the +counter, and then turned partly away. The stranger poured out a +tumbler of water, and drank it off with an air of satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"Good water, that of yours, landlord," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" was returned, somewhat uncourteously. +</P> + +<P> +"I call it good water—don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never drink water by itself." As Jenks said this, he winked to one +of his good customers, who was lounging, in the bar. "In fact, it's +so long since I drank any water, that I forgot how it tastes. Don't +you, Leslie?" +</P> + +<P> +The man, to whom this was addressed, was not so far lost to shame as +Jenks. He blushed and looked confused, as he replied,— +</P> + +<P> +"It might be better for some of us if we had not lost our relish for +pure water." +</P> + +<P> +"A true word spoken, my friend!" said the stranger, turning to the +man, whose swollen visage, and patched, threadbare garments, too +plainly told the story of his sad life. "'Water, pure water, bright +water;' that is my motto. It never swells the face, nor inflames the +eyes, nor mars the countenance. Its attendants are health, thrift, +and happiness. It takes not away the children's bread, nor the +toiling wife's garments. Water!—it is one of God's chiefest +blessings! Our friend, the landlord here, says he has forgotten how +it tastes; and you have lost all relish for the refreshing draught! +Ah, this is a sad confession!—one which the angels might weep to +hear!" +</P> + +<P> +There were two or three customers in the bar besides Leslie, to whom +this was addressed; and all of them, in spite of the landlord's +angry and sneering countenance, treated the stranger with attention +and respect. Seeing this, Jenks could not restrain himself; so, +coming from behind his bar, he advanced to his side, and, laying his +hand quite rudely on his shoulder, said, in a peremptory manner,— +</P> + +<P> +"See here, my friend! If you are about making a temperance lecture, +you can adjourn to the Town Hall or the Methodist Chapel." +</P> + +<P> +The stranger moved aside a pace or two, so that the hand of Jenks +might fall from his person, and then said, mildly,— +</P> + +<P> +"There must be something wrong here if a man may not speak in praise +of water without giving offense." +</P> + +<P> +"I said you could adjourn your lecture!" The landlord's face was now +fiery red, and he spoke with insolence and passion. +</P> + +<P> +"O, well, as you are president of the meeting, I suppose we must let +you exercise an arbitrary power of adjournment," said the stranger, +good-humoredly. "I didn't think any one had so strong a dislike for +water as to consider its praise an insult." +</P> + +<P> +At this moment a child stepped into the bar-room. Her little face +was flushed, and great beads of perspiration were slowly moving down +her crimson cheeks. Her step was elastic, her manner earnest, and +her large, dark eyes bright with an eager purpose. She glanced +neither to the right nor the left, but walking up to the landlord, +lifted to him her sweet young face, and said, in tones that thrilled +every heart but his,— +</P> + +<P> +"Please, Mr. Jenks, don't sell papa any more liquor!" +</P> + +<P> +"Off home with you, this instant!" exclaimed Jenks, the crimson of +his face deepening to a dark purple. As he spoke, he advanced +towards the child, with his hand uplifted in a threatening attitude. +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't, Mr. Jenks," persisted the child, not moving from +where she stood, nor taking her eyes front the landlord's +countenance. "Mother says, if you wouldn't sell him liquor, there'd +be no trouble. He's kind and good to us all when he doesn't drink." +</P> + +<P> +"Off, I say!" shouted Jenks, now maddened beyond self-control; and +his hand was about descending upon the little one, when the stranger +caught her in his arms, exclaiming, as he did so, with deep +emotion,— +</P> + +<P> +"God bless the child! No, no, precious one!" he added; "don't fear +him. Plead for your father—plead for your home. Your petition must +prevail! He cannot say nay to one of the little ones, whose angels +do always behold the face of their Father in heaven. God bless the +child!" added the stranger, in a choking voice. "O, that the father, +for whom she has come on this touching errand, were present now! If +there were anything of manhood yet left in his nature, this would +awaken it from its palsied sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"Papa! O, papa!" now cried the child, stretching forth her hands. In +the next moment she was clinging to the breast of her father, who, +with his arms clasped tightly around her, stood weeping and mingling +his tears with those now raining from the little one's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +What an oppressive stillness pervaded that room! Jenks stood subdued +and bewildered, his state of mental confusion scarcely enabling him +to comprehend the full import of the scene. The stranger looked on +wonderingly, yet deeply affected. Quietly, and with moist eyes, the +two or three drinking customers who had been lounging in the bar, +went stealthily out; and the landlord, the stranger and the father +and his child, were left the only inmates of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Lizzie, dear! This is no place for us," said Leslie, breaking +the deep silence. "We'll go home." +</P> + +<P> +And the unhappy inebriate took his child by the hand, and led her +towards the door. But the little one held back. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait, papa; wait!" she said. "He hasn't promised yet. O, I wish he +would promise!" +</P> + +<P> +"Promise her, in Heaven's name!" said the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"Promise!" said Leslie, in a stern yet solemn voice, as he turned +and fixed his eyes upon the landlord. +</P> + +<P> +"If I do promise, I'll keep it!" returned Jenks, in a threatening +tone, as he returned the gaze of Leslie. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, for God's sake, <I>promise!</I>" exclaimed Leslie, in a +half-despairing voice. "<I>Promise, and I'm safe!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +"Be it so! May I be cursed, if ever I sell you a drop of drinking at +this bar, while I am landlord of the 'Stag and Hounds'!" Jenks spoke +with with an angry emphasis. +</P> + +<P> +"God be thanked!" murmured the poor drunkard, as he led his child +away. "God be thanked! There is hope for me yet." +</P> + +<P> +Hardly had the mother of Lizzie missed her child, ere she entered, +leading her father by the hand. +</P> + +<P> +"O, mother!" she exclaimed, with a joy-lit countenance, and in a +voice of exultation, "Mr. Jenks has promised." +</P> + +<P> +"Promised what?" Hope sprung up in her heart, on wild and fluttering +wings, her face flushed, and then grew deadly pale. She sat panting +for a reply. +</P> + +<P> +"That he would never sell me another glass of liquor," said her +husband. +</P> + +<P> +A pair of thin, white hands were clasped quickly together, an ashen +face was turned upwards, tearless eyes looked their thankfulness to +heaven. +</P> + +<P> +"There is hope yet, Ellen," said Leslie. +</P> + +<P> +"Hope, hope! And O, Edward, you have said the word!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hope, through our child. Innocence has prevailed over vice and +cruelty. She came to the strong, evil, passionate man, and, in her +weakness and innocence, prevailed over him. God made her fearless +and eloquent." +</P> + +<P> +A year afterwards a stranger came again that way, and stopped at the +"Stag and Hounds." As before, Jenks was behind his well-filled bar, +and drinking customers came and went in numbers. Jenks did not +recognize him until he called for water, and drank a full tumbler of +the pure liquor with a hearty zest. Then he knew him, but feigned to +be ignorant of his identity. The stranger made no reference to the +scene he had witnessed there a twelvemonth before, but lingered in +the bar for most of the day, closely observing every one that came +to drink. Leslie was not among the number. +</P> + +<P> +"What has become of the man and the little girl I saw here, at my +last visit to Milanville?" said the stranger, speaking at last to +Jenks. +</P> + +<P> +"Gone to the devil, for all I care," was the landlord's rude answer, +as he turned off from his questioner. +</P> + +<P> +"For all you care, no doubt," said the stranger to himself. "Men +often speak their real thoughts in a passion." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you see that little white cottage away off there, just at the +edge of the wood? Two tall poplars stand in front." +</P> + +<P> +Thus spoke to the stranger one who had heard him address the +landlord. +</P> + +<P> +"I do. What of it?" he answered. +</P> + +<P> +"The man you asked for lives there." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"And what is more, if he keeps on as he has begun, the cottage will +be all his own in another year. Jenks, here, doesn't feel any good +blood for him, as you may well believe. A poor man's prosperity is +regarded as so much loss to him. Leslie is a good mechanic—one of +the best in Milanville. He can earn twelve dollars a week, year in +and year out. Two hundred dollars he has already paid on his +cottage; and as he is that much richer, Jenks thinks himself just so +much poorer; for all this surplus, and more too, would have gone +into his till, if Leslie had not quit drinking." +</P> + +<P> +"Aha! I see! Well, did Leslie, as you call him, ever try to get a +drink here, since the landlord promised never to let him have +another drop?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twice to my knowledge." +</P> + +<P> +"And he refused him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. If you remember, he said, in his anger, '<I>May I be cursed</I>, if +I sell him another drop.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I remember it very well." +</P> + +<P> +"That saved poor Leslie. Jenks is superstitious in some things. He +wanted to get his custom again,—for it was well worth having,—and he +was actually handing him the bottle one day, when I saw it, and +reminded him of his self-imprecation. He hesitated, looked +frightened, withdrew the bottle from the counter, and then, with +curses, drove Leslie from his bar-room, threatening, at the same +time, to horsewhip him if ever he set a foot over his threshold +again." +</P> + +<P> +"Poor drunkards!" mused the stranger, as he rode past the neat +cottage of the reformed man a couple of hours afterwards. "As the +case now stands, you are only saved as by fire. All law, all +protection, is on the side of those who are engaged in enticing you +into sin, and destroying you, body and soul. In their evil work, +they have free course. But for you, unhappy wretches, after they +have robbed you of worldly goods, and even manhood itself, are +provided prisons and pauper homes! And for your children,"—a dark +shadow swept over the stranger's face, and a shudder went through +his frame. "Can it be, a Christian country in which I live, and such +things darken the very sun at noonday!" he added as he sprung his +horse into a gallop and rode swiftly onward. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ALICE AND THE PIGEON. +</H3> + +<P> +ONE evening in winter as Alice, a dear little girl whom everybody +loved, pushed aside the curtains of her bedroom window, she saw the +moon half hidden by great banks of clouds, and only a few stars +peeping out here and there. Below, the earth lay dark, and cold. The +trees looked like great shadows. +</P> + +<P> +There was at change in her sweet face as she let fall the curtain +and turned from the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor birds!" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"They are all safe," answered her mother, smiling. "God has provided +for every bird a place of rest and shelter, and each one knows where +it is and how to find it. Not many stay here in the winter time, but +fly away to the sunny south, where the air is warm and the trees +green and fruitful." +</P> + +<P> +"God is very good," said the innocent child. Then she knelt with +folded hands, and prayed that her heavenly further would bless +everybody, and let his angels take care of her while she slept. Her +mother's kiss was still warm upon her lips as she passed into the +world of pleasant dreams. +</P> + +<P> +In the morning, when Alice again pushed back the curtains from her +window, what a sight of wonder and beauty met her eyes! Snow had +fallen, and everything wore a garment of dazzling whiteness. In the +clear blue sky, away in the cast, the sun was rising; and as his +beams fell upon the fields, and trees, and houses, every object +glittered as if covered all over with diamonds. +</P> + +<P> +But only for a moment or two did Alice look upon this beautiful +picture, for a slight movement drew her eyes to a corner of the +window-sill, on the outside, and there sat a pigeon close against +the window-pane, with its head drawn down and almost hidden among +the feathers, and its body shivering with cold. The pigeon did not +seem to be afraid of her, though she saw its little pink eyes +looking right into her own. +</P> + +<P> +"O, poor, dear bird!" she said in soft, pitying tones, raising the +window gently, so that it might not be frightened away. Then she +stepped back and waited to see if the bird would not come in. Pigeon +raised its brown head in a half scared away; turned it to this side +and to that; and after looking first at the comfortable chamber and +then away at the snow-covered earth, quietly hopped upon the sill +inside. Next he flew upon the back of a chair, and then down upon +the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Little darling," said Alice, softly. Then she dressed herself +quickly, and went down stairs for some crumbs of bread, which she +scattered on the floor. The pigeon picked them up, with scarcely a +sign of fear. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as he had eaten up all the crumbs, he flew back towards the +window and resting on the sill, swelled his glossy throat and cooed +his thanks to his little friend. After which darted away, the +morning sunshine glancing from wings. +</P> + +<P> +A feeling of disappointment crept into the heart of Alice as the +bird swept out of sight. "Poor little darling!" she sighed. "If he +had only known how kind I would have been, and how safe he was here, +what nice food and pure water would have been given, he wouldn't +have flown away." +</P> + +<P> +When Alice told about the visit of pigeon, at breakfast time, a +pleasant surprise was felt by all at the table. And they talked of, +doves and wood-pigeons, her father telling her once or two nice +stories, with which she was delighted. After breakfast, her mother +took a volume from the library containing Willis's exquisite poem, +"The little Pigeon," and gave it to Alice to read. She soon knew it +all by heart. +</P> + +<P> +A great many times during the day Alice stood at the open door, or +looked from the windows, in hope of seeing the pigeon again. On a +distant house-top, from which the snow had been melted or blown +away, or flying through the air, she would get sight of a bird now +and then; but she couldn't tell whether or not it was the white and +brown pigeon she had sheltered and fed in the morning. But just +before sundown, as she stood by the parlor window, a cry of joy fell +from her lips. There was the pigeon sitting on a fence close by, and +looking, it seemed to her, quite forlorn. +</P> + +<P> +Alice threw open the window, and then ran into the kitchen for some +crumbs of bread. When she came back, pigeon was still on the fence. +Then she called to him, holding out her her hand scattering a few +crumbs on the window-sill. The bird was hungry and had sharp eyes, +and when he saw Alice he no doubt remembered the nice meal she had +given him in the morning, in a few moments he flew to the window, +but seemed half afraid. So Alice stood a little back in the room, +when he began to pick up the crumbs. Then she came nearer and +nearer, holding out her hand that was full of crumbs, and as soon as +pigeon had picked up all that was on the sill, he took the rest of +his evening meal from the dear little girl's hand. Every now and +then he would stop and look up at his kind friend, as much as to +say, "Thank you for my nice supper. You are so good!" When he had +eaten enough, he cooed a little, bobbed his pretty head, and then +lifted his wings and flew away. +</P> + +<P> +He did not come back again. At first Alice, was disappointed, but +this soon wore off, and only a feeling of pleasure remained. +</P> + +<P> +"I would like so much to see him and feed him," she said. "But I +know he's better off and happier at his own home, with a nice place +to sleep in and plenty to eat, than sitting on a window-sill all +night in a snow storm." And then she would say over that sweet poem, +"The City Pigeon," which her mother had given her to get by heart. +Here it is, and I hope every one of my little readers will get it by +heart also:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove!<BR> + Thy daily visits have touched my love.<BR> + I watch thy coming, and list the note<BR> + That stirs so low in thy mellow throat,<BR> + And my joy is high<BR> + To catch the glance of thy gentle eye.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Why dost thou sit on the heated eaves,<BR> + And forsake the wood with its freshened leaves?<BR> + Why dost thou haunt the sultry street,<BR> + When the paths of the forest are cool and sweet?<BR> + How canst thou bear<BR> + This noise of people—this sultry air?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Thou alone of the feathered race<BR> + Dost look unscared on the human face;<BR> + Thou alone, with a wing to flee,<BR> + Dost love with man in his haunts to be;<BR> + And the 'gentle dove'<BR> + Has become a name for trust and love.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "A holy gift is thine, sweet bird!<BR> + Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word!<BR> + Thou'rt linked with all that is fresh and wild<BR> + In the prisoned thoughts of the city child;<BR> + And thy glossy wings<BR> + Are its brightest image of moving things.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "It is no light chance. Thou art set apart,<BR> + Wisely by Him who has tamed thy heart,<BR> + To stir the love for the bright and fair<BR> + That else were sealed in this crowded air<BR> + I sometimes dream<BR> + Angelic rays front thy pinions stream.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "Come then, ever, when daylight leaves<BR> + The page I read, to my humble eaves,<BR> + And wash thy breast in the hollow spout,<BR> + And murmur thy low sweet music out!<BR> + I hear and see<BR> + Lessons of heaven, sweet bird, in thee!"<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DRESSED FOR A PARTY. +</H3> + +<P> +A LADY sat reading. She was so absorbed in her book as to be nearly +motionless. Her face, in repose, was serious, almost sad; for twice +a score of years had not passed without leaving the shadow of a +cloud or the mark of a tempest. The door opened, and, as she looked +up, pleasant smile lay softly on her lips. A beautiful girl, +elegantly attired for an evening party, came in. +</P> + +<P> +"All ready?" said the lady, closing her volume, and looking at the +maiden with a lively interest, that blended thoughtfulness with +affection. +</P> + +<P> +"All ready," aunt Helen. "And now what do you think of me? What is +the effect?" Tone, expression, and manner, all gave plainly enough +speaker's own answer to her questions. She thought the make up +splendid—the effect striking. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I say just what I think, Alice?" +</P> + +<P> +A thin veil of shadows fell over the bright young countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"Love will speak tenderly. But even tenderly-spoken things, not +moving with the current of our feelings, are not pleasant to hear." +</P> + +<P> +"Say on, aunt Helen. I can listen to anything from you. You think me +overdressed. I see it in your eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"You have read my thought correctly, dear." +</P> + +<P> +"In what particular am I overdressed? Nothing could be simpler than +a white illusion." +</P> + +<P> +"Without an abundance of pink trimming, it would be simple and +becoming enough. Your dressmaker has overloaded it with ribbon; at +least, so it appears to me. But, passing that let me suggest a +thought touching those two heavy bracelets. One, on the exposed arm, +is sufficiently attractive. Two will create the impression that you +are weakly fond of ornament; and in the eyes of every one who feels +this, the effect of your dress will be marred. Men and women see +down into our states of feeling with wonderful quick intuitions, and +read us while we are yet ignorant in regard to ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +Alice unclasped, with a faint sigh, one of the bracelets, and laid +it on her aunt's bureau. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that better?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I think so." +</P> + +<P> +"But the arm is so naked, aunt. It wants something, just for +relief." +</P> + +<P> +"To me the effect would be improved if arms and neck were covered. +But, as it is, if you think something required to draw attention +from the bare skin, let one ornament be the most simple in your +jewel box. You have a bracelet of hair, with neat mountings. Take +that." +</P> + +<P> +Alice stood for a while pondering her aunt's suggestion. Then, with +half-forced cheerfulness of tone, she answered,— +</P> + +<P> +"May be you're right, I'll take the hair bracelets instead. And now, +what else?" +</P> + +<P> +"The critic's task is never for me a pleasant one, Alice. Least +pleasant when it touches one I love. If you had not asked what I +thought of your appearance, I would have intruded no exceptions. I +have been much in society since I was very young, and have always +been an observer. Two classes of women, I notice, usually make up +the staple of our social assemblages: those who consult taste in +dress, and those who study effect; those who think and appreciate, +and those who court admiration. By sensible people,—and we need not +pay much regard to the opinion of others,—these two classes are well +understood, and estimated at their real value." +</P> + +<P> +"It is quite plain, aunt Helen," said Alice, her color much +heightened, "that you have set me over to the side of those who +study effect and court admiration." +</P> + +<P> +"I think you are in danger of going over to that side, my dear," was +gently answered, "and I love you too well not to desire something +better for my niece. Turn your thought inward and get down, if +possible, to your actual state of mind. Why have you chosen this +very effective style of dress? It is not in good taste—even you, I +think, will agree with me so far." +</P> + +<P> +"Not in good taste, aunt Helen!" +</P> + +<P> +"A prima donna, or a ballet—" +</P> + +<P> +"How, aunt!" Alice made a quick interruption. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, my child, how I am affected. Let me say it out in plain +words—your appearance, when, you came in a few minutes ago actually +shocked me." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed, indeed, aunt Helen, you are too severe in your tastes! We +are not Friends." +</P> + +<P> +"You are not going in the character of a May queen, Alice, that you +should almost hide your beautiful hair in ribbons and flowers. A +stiff bouquet in a silver holder is simply an impediment, and does +not give a particle of true womanly grace. That necklace of pearls, +if half hidden among soft laces, would be charming; but banding the +uncovered neck and half-exposed chest, it looks bald, inharmonious, +and out of place. White, with a superfluity of pink trimming, +jewelry and flowers, I call on the outside of good taste; and if you +go as you are, you will certainly attract all eyes, but I am sure +you will not win admiration for these things from a single heart +whose regard is worth having. Don't be hurt with me, Alice. I am +speaking with all love and sincerity, and from a wider experience +and observation than it is possible for you to have reached. Don't +go as you are, if you can possibly make important changes. What time +is left?" +</P> + +<P> +Alice stood silent, with a clouded face. Her aunt looked at her +watch. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a full half hour. You may do much in that time. But you +had best refer to your mother. Her taste and mine may not entirely +accord." +</P> + +<P> +"O, as to that, mother is on your side. But she is always so plain +in her notions," said Alice, with a slight betrayal of impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"A young lady will always be safest in society, Alice—always more +certain to make a good impression, if she subordinate her love of +dress and ornament as much as possible to her mother's taste. In +breaking away from this, my dear, you have gone over to an extreme +that, if persisted in, will class you with vain lovers of +admiration; with mere show girls, who, conscious of no superior +moral and mental attractions, seek to win by outward charms. Be not +of them, dear Alice, but of the higher class, whose minds are +clothed in beautiful garments whose loveliest and most precious +things are, like jewels, shut within a casket." +</P> + +<P> +Alice withdrew, silent, almost hurt, though not offended, and more +than half resolved to give up the party. But certainly recollections +checked this forming resolve before it reached a state of full +decision. +</P> + +<P> +"How will this do?" She pushed open the door of her aunt's room half +an hour afterwards with this sentence on her lips. Her cheeks were +glowing, and her eyes full of sparkles. So complete was the change, +that for a brief space the aunt gazed at her wonderingly. She wore a +handsome fawn-colored silk, made high in the neck, around which was +a narrow lace collar of exceeding fineness, pinned with a single +diamond. A linked band of gold, partly hidden by the lace +undersleeve, clasped one of her wrists. A small spray of pearls and +silver formed the only ornament for her hair, and nestled, +beautifully contrasted among its dark and glossy braids. +</P> + +<P> +"Charming!" replied aunt Helen, in no feigned admiration. "In my +eyes you are a hundred times more attractive than you were, a little +while ago, and will prove more attractive to all whose favor is +worth the winning." And she arose and kissed her nice lovingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am not overdressed." Alice smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Better underdressed than overdressed, always, my dear, If there is +any fault, it is on the right side." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad you are pleased, aunt Helen." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you not better pleased with yourself?" was asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't just say that, aunt. I've worn this dress in company +several times, and it's very plain." +</P> + +<P> +"It is very becoming, dear; and we always appear to best advantage +in that which most accords with our style of person and complexion. +To my eyes, in this more simple yet really elegant apparel, you look +charming. Before, you impressed me with a sense of vulgarity; now, +the impression, is one of refinement." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for such flattering words, aunt Helen. I will accept the +pictures in your eyes as justly contrasted. Of one thing I am sure, +I shall feel more at ease, and less conscious of observation, than +would have been the case had I gone in my gayer attire. Good +evening. It is growing late, and I must be away." +</P> + +<P> +The maiden stooped, and kissed her aunt affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening, dear, and may the hours be pleasant ones." +</P> + +<P> +When Alice entered the drawing-room, where the company were +assembling her eyes were almost dazzled with the glitter of jewelry +and the splendor of colors. Most of the ladies present seemed +ambitious of display, emulous of ornament. She felt out of place, in +her grave and simple costume, and moved to a part of the room where +she would be away from observation. But her eyes were soon wandering +about, scanning forms and faces, not from simple curiosity, but with +an interest that was visible in her countenance. She looked for the +presence of one who had been, of late, much in her thoughts: of one +for whose eyes, more than for the eyes of any other, she apparelled +herself with that studied effect which received so little approval +from her aunt Helen. Alice felt sober. If she entertained doubts +touching her change of dress they were gone now. Plainly, to her +convictions, aunt Helen was wrong and she had been wrong in yielding +her own best judgement of the case. +</P> + +<P> +Alice had been seated only for a little while, when she saw the +young man to whom we have just referred. He was standing at the +extreme end of the room, talking in a lively manner with a +gayly-dressed girl, who seemed particularly pleased with his +attentions. Beside her Alice would have seemed almost Quaker-like in +plainness. And Alice felt this with something like a pang. Soon they +passed across the room, approaching very near, and stood within a +few feet of her for several minutes. Then they moved away, and sit +down together not far off, still chatting in the lively manner at +first observed. Once or twice the young man appeared to look +directly at Alice, but no sign of recognition was visible on his +face. +</P> + +<P> +After the first emotions of disappointment in not being recognized +had subsided, the thoughts of Alice began to lift her out of the +state in much she had been resting. +</P> + +<P> +"If fine feathers make the fine bird," she said to herself, "let him +have the gay plumage. As for me, I ask a higher estimate. So I will +be content." +</P> + +<P> +With the help of pride she rose above the weakness that was +depressing her. A lady friend joined her at the moment, and she was +soon interested in conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me for a personal reference, Alice," said this friend in a +familiar way, "and particularly for speaking of dress. But the fact +is, you shame at least one half of us girls by your perfect +subordination of everything to good taste. I never saw you so +faultlessly attired in my life." +</P> + +<P> +"The merit, if there is any," replied Alice, "is not mine. I was +coming like a butterfly, but my aunt Helen, who is making us a +visit, objected so strongly that I took off my party dress and +head-dress, made for the occasion, and, in a fit of half-don't-care +desperation, got myself up after this modest fashion that you are +pleased to call in such good taste." +</P> + +<P> +"Make your aunt Helen my compliments, and say to her that I wish she +were multiplied a thousands times. You will be the belle to-night, +if there are many sensible man present. Ah, there comes Mr. Benton!" +At this name the heart of Alice leaped. "He has spied you out +already. You are the attraction, of course, not me." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Benton, who had been, of late, so much in her thought, now stood +bowing before the two young ladies, thus arresting their +conversation. The last speaker was right. Alice had drawn him across +the room, as was quickly apparent, for to her alone he was soon +addressing himself. To quite the extent allowable in good breeding, +was Alice monopolized by Mr. Benton during the evening and when he +left her, with scarcely-concealed reluctance, another would take his +place, and enjoy the charm of her fine intelligence. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you been introduced to Alice T——?" she heard one gentleman ask +of another, as she stood near a window opening into the +conservatory, and partly hidden by curtains. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," was the answer. +</P> + +<P> +"She is a pleasant girl." +</P> + +<P> +"By odds the most charming I have met to-night. And then she has had +the good taste to dress in a modest, womanly manner. How beautifully +she contrasts with a dozen I could name, all radiant with colors as +a bed of tulips." +</P> + +<P> +She heard no more. But this was enough. +</P> + +<P> +"You had a pleasant evening judging from your face," said aunt +Helen, when she meet her niece on the next morning. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; it was a very pleasant one—very pleasant." Her color deepened +and her eyes grew brighter. +</P> + +<P> +"You were not neglected on account of you attractive style of +dress?" +</P> + +<P> +"Judging from the attentions I received, it must have been very +attractive. A novelty, perhaps. You understand human nature better +than I do, aunt Helen." +</P> + +<P> +"Was it the plainest in the room?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was plainer than that of half a dozen ladies old enough to have +grandchildren." +</P> + +<P> +The aunt smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Then it has not hurt your prospects?" +</P> + +<P> +The question was in jest; but aunt Helen saw instantly into the +heart of her niece. For a moment their eyes lingered in each other; +then Alice looked down upon the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"No it has not hurt my prospects." The answer was in a softer voice, +and then followed a long-drawn inspiration, succeeded by the +faintest of sighs. +</P> + +<P> +A visit from Mr. Benton, on the next evening, removed all doubt from +the dress question, if any remained. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +COFFEE vs. BRANDY. +</H3> + +<P> +"WE shall have to give them a wedding party," said Mrs. Eldridge to +her husband. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Eldridge assented. +</P> + +<P> +"They will be home to-morrow, and I think of sending out of +invitations for Thursday." +</P> + +<P> +"As you like about that," replied Mr. Eldridge. "The trouble will be +yours." +</P> + +<P> +"You have no objections?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, none in the world. Fanny is a good little girl, and the least we +can do is to pay her this compliment on her marriage. I am not +altogether satisfied about her husband, however; he was rather a +wild sort of a boy a year or two ago." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess he's all right now," remarked Mrs. Eldridge; "and he +strikes me as a very kind-hearted, well-meaning young man. I have +flattered myself that Fanny has done quite well as the average run +of girls." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps so," said Mr. Eldridge, a little thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you be in the neighborhood of Snyder's?" inquired the lady. +</P> + +<P> +"I think not. We are very busy just now, and I shall hardly have +time to leave the store to-day. But I can step around there +to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow, or even the next day, will answer," replied Mrs. +Eldridge. "You must order the liquors. I will attend to everything +else." +</P> + +<P> +"How many are you going to invite?" inquired Mr. Eldridge. +</P> + +<P> +"I have not made out a list yet, but it will not fall much short of +seventy or eighty." +</P> + +<P> +"Seventy or eighty!" repeated Mr. Eldridge. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see. Three dozen of champagne; a dozen of sherry; a dozen of +port; a dozen of hock, and a gallon of brandy,—that will be enough +to put life into them I imagine." +</P> + +<P> +"Or death!" Mrs. Eldridge spoke to herself, in an undertone. +</P> + +<P> +Her husband, if he noticed the remark, did not reply to it, but +said, "Good morning," and left the house. A lad about sixteen years +of age sat in the room during this conversation, with a book in his +hand and his eyes on the page before him. He did not once look up or +move; and an observer would have supposed him so much interested in +his book as not to have heard the passing conversation. But he had +listened to every word. As soon as Mr. Eldridge left the room his +book fell upon his lap, and looking towards Mrs. Eldridge, he said, +in an earnest but respectful manner,— +</P> + +<P> +"Don't have any liquor, mother." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs s Eldridge looked neither offended nor irritated by this +remonstrance, as she replied,— +</P> + +<P> +"I wish it were possible to avoid having liquor, my son; but it is +the custom of society and if we give a party it must be in the way +it is done by other people." +</P> + +<P> +This did not satisfy the boy, who had been for some time associated +with the Cadets of Temperance, and he answered, but with modesty and +great respect of, manner,—"If other people do wrong, mother—what +then?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am not so sure of its being wrong, Henry." +</P> + +<P> +"O, but mother," spoke out the boy, quickly, "if it hurts people to +drink, it must be wrong to give them liquor. Now I've been thinking +how much better it would be to have a nice cup of coffee. I am sure +that four out of five would like it a great deal better than wine or +brandy. And nobody could possibly receive any harm. Didn't you hear +what father said about Mr. Lewis? That he had been rather wild? I am +sure I shall never forget seeing him stagger in the street once. I +suppose he has reformed. But just think, if the taste should be +revived again and at our house, and he should become intoxicated at +this wedding party! O, mother! It makes me feel dreadfully to think +about it. And dear Cousin Fanny! What sorrow it would bring to her!" +</P> + +<P> +"O, dear, Henry! Don't talk in that kind of a way! You make me +shudder all over. You're getting too much carried away by this +subject of temperance." +</P> + +<P> +And Mrs. Eldridge left the room to look after her domestic duties. +But she could not push from her mind certain uneasy thoughts which +her son's suggestions had awakened. During the morning an intimate +lady friend came in to whom Mrs. Eldridge spoke of the intended +party. +</P> + +<P> +"And would you believe it," she said, "that old-fashioned boy of +mine actually proposed that we should have coffee instead of wine +and brandy." +</P> + +<P> +"And you're going to adopt the suggestion," replied the lady, her +face lighten up with a pleasant smile. +</P> + +<P> +"It would suit my own views exactly; but then such an innovation +upon a common usage as that; is not to be thought of for a moment." +</P> + +<P> +"And why not?" asked the lady. "Coffee is safe, while wine and +brandy are always dangerous in promiscuous companies. You can never +tell in what morbid appetite you may excite an unhealthy craving. +You may receive into your house a young man with intellect clear, +and moral purposes well-balanced, and send him home at midnight, to +his mother, stupid from intoxication! Take your son's advice, my +friend. Exclude the wine and brandy, and give a pleasant cup of +coffee to your guests instead." +</P> + +<P> +"O, dear, no, I can't do that!" said Mrs. Eldridge. "It would look +as if we were too mean to furnish wines and brandy. Besides, my +husband would never consent to it." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me give you a little experience of my own. It may help you to a +right decision in this case." +</P> + +<P> +The lady spoke with some earnestness, and a sober cast of thought in +her countenance. "It is now about three years since I gave a large +party, at which a number of young men were present,—boys I should +rather say. Among these was the son of an old and very dear friend. +He was in his nineteenth year,—a handsome, intelligent, and most +agreeable person—full of life and pleasant humor. At supper time I +noticed him with a glass of champagne in his hand, gayly talking +with some ladies. In a little while after, my eyes happening to rest +on him, I saw him holding, a glass of port wine to his lips, which +was emptied at a single draught. Again passing near him, in order to +speak to a lady, I observed a tumbler in his hand, and knew the +contents to be brandy and water. This caused me to feel some +concern, and I kept him, in closer observation. In a little while he +was at the table again, pouring out another glass of wine. I thought +it might be for a lady upon whom he was in attendance; but no, the +sparkling liquor touched his own lips. When the company returned to +the parlors, the flushed face, swimming eyes, and over-hilarious +manner of my young friend, showed too plainly that he had been +drinking to excess. He was so much excited as to attract the +attention of every one, and his condition became the subject of +remark. He was mortified and distressed at the occurrence, and +drawing him from the room, made free to tell him the truth. He +showed some indignation at first, and intimated that I had insulted +him but I rebuked him sternly, and told him he had better go home. I +was too much excited to act very wisely. He took me at my word, and +left the house. There was no sleep for my eyes on that night, Mrs. +Eldridge. The image of that boy going home to his mother at +midnight, in such a condition, and made so by my hand haunted me +like a rebuking spectre; and I resolved never again to set out a +table with liquors to a promiscuous company of young and old, and I +have kept that word of promise. My husband is not willing to have a +party unless there is wine with the refreshments, and I would rather +forego all entertainments than put temptation in the way of any one. +Your son's suggestion is admirable. Have the independence to act +upon it, and set an example which many will be glad to follow. Don't +fear criticism or remark; don't stop to ask what this one will say +or that one think. The approval of our own consciences is worth far +more than the opinions of men. Is it right? That is the question to +ask; not How will it appear? or What will people say? There will be +a number of parties given to your niece, without doubt; and if you, +lead off with coffee instead of wine, all the rest of Fanny's +friends may follow the good example." +</P> + +<P> +When Mr. Eldridge came home at dinner-time, his wife said to him,— +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't order any liquors from Snyder." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" Mr. Eldridge looked at his wife with some surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to have coffee, instead of wine, and brandy," said Mrs. +Eldridge, speaking firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! You're jesting." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I'm in earnest. These liquors are not only expensive, but +dangerous things to offer freely in mixed companies. Many boys get +their first taste for drink at fashionable parties, and many +reformed men have the old fiery thirst revived by a glass of wine +poured out for them in social hospitality. I am afraid to have my +conscience burdened with the responsibility which this involves." +</P> + +<P> +"There is no question as to the injury that is done by this free +pouring out of liquors at our fashionable entertainments. I've long +enough seen that," said Mr. Eldridge; "but she will be a bold lady +who ventures to offer a cup of coffee in place of a glass of wine. +You had better think twice on this subject before you act once." +</P> + +<P> +"I've done little else I but think about it for the last two hours, +and the more I think about it the more settled my purpose becomes." +</P> + +<P> +"But what put this thing into your head?" inquired Mr. Eldridge. +"You were in full sail for party this morning, liquor and all; this +sudden tacking for a new course is a little surprising. I'm +puzzled." +</P> + +<P> +"Your son put it into my head," replied Mrs. Eldridge. +</P> + +<P> +"Henry? Well, that boy does beat all!" Mr. Eldridge did not speak +with disapprobation, but with a tone of pleasure in his voice. "And +so he proposed that we should have coffee instead of wine and +brandy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Bravo for Henry! I like that. But what will people say, my dear? I +don't want to become a laughing stock." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather have other people laugh at me for doing right," said +Mrs. Eldridge, "than to have my conscience blame me for doing +wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Must we give the party?" asked Mr. Eldridge, who did not feel much +inclined to brave public opinion. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see that we can well avoid doing so. Parties will be given, +and as Fanny is our niece, it will look like a slight towards her if +we hold back. No, she must have a party; and as I am resolved to +exclude liquor, we must come in first. Who knows but all the rest +may follow our example." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't flatter yourself on any such result. We shall stand alone, +you may depend upon it." +</P> + +<P> +The evening of the party came and a large company assembled at the +house of Mr. and Mrs. Eldridge. At eleven o'clock they passed to the +supper-room. On this time the thoughts of the host and hostess had +passed, ever and anon, during the whole evening, and not without +many misgivings as to the effect their entertainment would produce +on the minds of the company. Mr. Eldridge was particularly nervous +on the subject. There were several gentlemen present whom he knew to +be lovers of good wine; gentlemen at whose houses he had often been +entertained, and never without the exhilarating glass. How would +they feel? What would they think? What would they say? These +questions fairly haunted him; and he regretted, over and over again, +that he had yielded to his wife and excluded the liquors. +</P> + +<P> +But there was no holding back now; the die was cast, and they must +stand to the issue. Mr. Eldridge tried to speak pleasantly to the +lady on his arm, as he ascended to the supper-room; but the words +came heavily from his tongue, for his heart was dying in him. Soon +the company were around the table, and eyes, critical in such +matters, taking hurried inventories of what it contained. Setting +aside the wine and brandy, the entertainment was of the most liberal +character, and the whole arrangement extremely elegant. At each end +of the table stood a large coffee-urn, surrounded with cups, the +meaning of which was not long a mystery to the company. After the +terrapin, oysters, salad, and their accompaniments, Mr. Eldridge +said to a lady, in a half-hesitating voice, as if he were almost +ashamed to ask the question,— +</P> + +<P> +"Will you have a cup of coffee?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you please," was the smiling answer. "Nothing would suit me +better." +</P> + +<P> +"Delicious!" Mr. Eldridge heard one of the gentlemen, of whom he +stood most in dread, say. "This is indeed a treat. I wouldn't give +such a cup of coffee for the best glass of wine you could bring me." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad you are pleased," Mr. Eldridge could not help remarking, +as he turned to the gentleman. +</P> + +<P> +"You couldn't have pleased me better," was replied. +</P> + +<P> +Soon the cups were circling through the room, and every one seemed +to enjoy the rich beverage. It was not the ghost of coffee, nor +coffee robbed of its delicate aroma; but clear, strong, fragrant, +and mellowed by the most delicious cream. Having elected to serve +coffee, Mrs. Eldridge was careful that her entertainment should not +prove a failure through any lack of excellence in this article. And +it was very far from proving a failure. The first surprise being +over, one and another began to express an opinion on the subject to +the host and hostess. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me thank you," said a lady, taking the hand of Mrs. Eldridge, +and speaking very warmly, "for your courage in making this +innovation upon a custom of doubtful prudence. I thank you, as a +mother, who has two sons here to-night." +</P> + +<P> +She said no more, but Mrs. Eldridge understood well her whole +meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"You are a brave man, and I honor you," was the remark of a +gentleman to Mr. Eldridge. "There will be many, I think, to follow +your good example. I should never have had the courage to lead, but +I think I shall be brave enough to follow, when it comes my turn to +entertain my friends." +</P> + +<P> +Henry was standing by his father when this was said listening with +respectful, but deeply gratified attention. +</P> + +<P> +"My son, sir," said Mr. Eldridge. +</P> + +<P> +The gentleman took the boy by the hand, and while he held it, the +father added,— +</P> + +<P> +"I must let the honor go to where it really is due. The suggestion +came from him. He is a Cadet of Temperance, and when the party was +talked of, he pleaded so earnestly for the substitution of coffee +for wine and brandy, and used such good reason for the change, that +we saw only one right course before us, and that we have adopted." +</P> + +<P> +The gentleman, on hearing this, shook the lad's hand warmly, and +said,— +</P> + +<P> +"Your father has reason to be proud of you, my brave boy! There is +no telling what good may grew out of this thing. Others will follow +your father's example, and hundreds of young men be saved from the +enticements of the wine cup." +</P> + +<P> +With what strong throbs of pleasure did the boy's heart beat when +these words came to his ears! He had scarcely hoped for success when +he pleaded briefly, but earnestly, with his mother. Yet he felt that +he must speak, for to his mind, what she proposed doing was a great +evil. Since it had been resolved to banish liquor from the +entertainment, he had heard his father and mother speak several +times doubtfully as to the result; and more than once his father +expressed result that any such "foolish" attempt to run in the face +of people's prejudices had been thought of. Naturally, he had felt +anxious about the result; but now that the affair had gone off so +triumphantly, his heart was outgushing with pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +The result was as had been predicted. Four parties were given to the +bride, and in each case the good example of Mrs. Eldridge was +followed. Coffee took the place of wine and brandy, and it was the +remark of nearly all, that there had been no pleasant parties during +the season. +</P> + +<P> +So much for what a boy may do, by only a few right words spoken at +the right time, and in the right manner. Henry Eldridge was +thoughtful, modest, and earnest-minded. His attachment to the cause +of temperance was not a mere boyish enthusiasm, but the result of a +conviction that intemperance was a vice destructive, to both soul +and body, and one that lay like a curse and a plague-spot on +society, He could understand how, if the boys rejected, entirely, +the cup of confusion, the next, generation of men would be sober; +and this had led him to join the Cadets, and do all in his power to +get other lads to join also. In drawing other lads into the order, +he had been very successful; and now, in a few respectfully uttered, +but earnest words, he had checked the progress of intemperance in a +circle far beyond the ordinary reach of his influence. +</P> + +<P> +Henry Eldridge was a happy boy that night. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AMY'S QUESTION. +</H3> + +<P> +"AMY!" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Grove called from the door that opened towards the garden. But +no answer came. The sun had set half an hour before, and his +parting, rays, were faintly tinging with gold and purple few clouds +that lay just alone the edge of the western sky. In the east, the +full moon was rising in all her beauty, making pale the stars that +were sparking in the firmament. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Amy?" she asked. "Has any one seen her come in?" +</P> + +<P> +"I saw her go up stairs with her knitting in her hand half an hour +ago," said Amy's brother, who was busily at work with his knife on a +block of pine wood, trying to make a boat. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Grove went to the foot of the stairs, and called again. But +there was no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder where the child can be," she said to herself, a slight +feeling of anxiety crossing her mind. So she went up stairs to looks +for her. The door of Amy's bedroom was shut, but on pushing it open +Mrs. Grove saw her little girl sitting at the open window, so lost +in the beauty of the moonlit sky and her own thoughts that she did +not hear the noise of her mother's entrance. +</P> + +<P> +"Amy," said Mrs. Grove. +</P> + +<P> +The child started, and then said quickly,— +</P> + +<P> +"O, mother! Come and see! Isn't it lovely?" +</P> + +<P> +"What are you looking at, dear?" asked Mrs. Grove, as she sat down +by her side, and drew an arm around her. +</P> + +<P> +"At the moon, and stars, and the lake away off by the hill. See what +a great road of light lies across the water! Isn't it beautiful, +mother? And it makes me feel so quiet and happy. I wonder why it +is?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I tell you the reason?" +</P> + +<P> +"O, yes, mother, dear! What is the reason?" +</P> + +<P> +"God made everything that is good and beautiful." +</P> + +<P> +"O, yes, I know that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Good and beautiful for the sake of man; because man is the highest +thing of creation and nearest to God. All things below him were +created for his good; that is, God made them for him to use in +sustaining the life of his body or the life of his soul." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see what use I can make of the moon and stars," said Amy. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet," answered her mother, "you said only a minute ago that the +beauty of this moon-light evening made you feel so quiet and happy." +</P> + +<P> +"O, yes! That is so; and you were going to tell me why it was." +</P> + +<P> +"First," said the mother, "let me, remind you that the moon and +stars give us light by night, and that, if you happened to be away +at a neighbor's after the sun went down, they would be of great use +in showing you the path home-ward." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't think of that when I spoke of not seeing what use I could +make, of the moon and stars," Amy replied. +</P> + +<P> +Her mother went on,— +</P> + +<P> +"God made everything that is good and beautiful for the stake of +man, as I have just told you; and each of these good and beautiful +things of creation comes to us with a double blessing,—one for our +bodies and the other for our souls. The moon and stars not only give +light this evening to make dark ways plain, but their calm presence +fills our souls with peace. And they do so, because all things of +nature being the work of God, have in them a likeness of something +in himself not seen by our eyes, but felt in our souls. Do you +understand anything of what I mean, Amy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just a little, only," answered the child. "Do you mean, mother +dear, that God is inside of the moon and stars, and everything else +that he has made?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly what I mean; but that he has so made them, that each +created thin is as a mirror in which our souls may see something of +his love and his wisdom reflected. In the water we see an image of +his truth, that, if learned, will satisfy our thirsty minds and +cleanse us from impurity. In the sun we see an image of his love, +that gives light, and warmth, and all beauty and health to our +souls." +</P> + +<P> +"And what in the moon?" asked Amy. +</P> + +<P> +"The moon is cold and calm, not warm and brilliant like the sun, +which tells us of God's love. Like truths learned, but not made warm +and bright by love, it shows us the way in times of darkness. But +you are too young to understand much about this. Only keep in your +memory that every good and beautiful thing you see, being made by +God, reflects something of his nature and quality to your soul and +that this is why the lovely, the grand, the beautiful, the pure, and +sweet things of nature fill your heart with peace or delight when +you gaze at them." +</P> + +<P> +For a little while after this they sat looking out of the window, +both feeling very peaceful in the presence of God and his works. +Then voice was heard below, and Amy, starting up, exclaimed,— +</P> + +<P> +"O, there is father!" and taking her mother's hand, went down to +meet him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AN ANGEL IN DISGUISE. +</H3> + +<P> +IDLENESS, vice, and intemperance had done their miserable work, and +the dead mother lay cold and still amid her wretched children. She +had fallen upon the threshold of her own door in a drunken fit, and +died in the presence of her frightened little ones. +</P> + +<P> +Death touches the spring of our common humanity. This woman had been +despised, scoffed at, and angrily denounced by nearly every man, +woman, and child in the village; but now, as the fact of, her death +was passed from lip to lip, in subdued tones, pity took the place of +anger, and sorrow of denunciation. Neighbors went hastily to the old +tumble-down hut, in which she had secured little more than a place +of shelter from summer heats and winter cold: some with +grave-clothes for a decent interment of the body; and some with food +for the half-starving children, three in number. Of these, John, the +oldest, a boy of twelve, was a stout lad, able to earn his living +with any farmer. Kate, between ten and eleven, was bright, active +girl, out of whom something clever might be made, if in good hands; +but poor little Maggie, the youngest, was hopelessly diseased. Two +years before a fall from a window had injured her spine, and she had +not been able to leave her bed since, except when lifted in the arms +of her mother. +</P> + +<P> +"What is to be done with the children?" That was the chief question +now. The dead mother would go underground, and be forever beyond all +care or concern of the villagers. But the children must not be left +to starve. After considering the matter, and talking it over with +his wife, farmer Jones said that he would take John, and do well by +him, now that his mother was out of the way; and Mrs. Ellis, who had +been looking out for a bound girl, concluded that it would be +charitable in her to make choice of Katy, even though she was too +young to be of much use for several years. +</P> + +<P> +"I could do much better, I know," said Mrs. Ellis; "but as no one +seems inclined to take her, I must act from a sense of duty expect +to have trouble with the child; for she's an undisciplined +thing—used to having her own way." +</P> + +<P> +But no one said "I'll take Maggie." Pitying glances were cast on her +wan and wasted form and thoughts were troubled on her account. +Mothers brought cast-off garments and, removing her soiled and +ragged clothes, dressed her in clean attire. The sad eyes and +patient face of the little one touched many hearts, and even knocked +at them for entrance. But none opened to take her in. Who wanted a +bed-ridden child? +</P> + +<P> +"Take her to the poorhouse," said a rough man, of whom the question +"What's to be done with Maggie?" was asked. "Nobody's going to be +bothered with her." +</P> + +<P> +"The poorhouse is a sad place for a sick and helpless child," +answered one. +</P> + +<P> +"For your child or mine," said the other, lightly speaking; "but for +tis brat it will prove a blessed change, she will be kept clean, +have healthy food, and be doctored, which is more than can be said +of her past condition." +</P> + +<P> +There was reason in that, but still it didn't satisfy. The day +following the day of death was made the day of burial. A few +neighbors were at the miserable hovel, but none followed dead cart +as it bore the unhonored remains to its pauper grave. Farmer Jones, +after the coffin was taken out, placed John in his wagon and drove +away, satisfied that he had done his part. Mrs. Ellis spoke to Kate +with a hurried air, "Bid your sister good by," and drew the tearful +children apart ere scarcely their lips had touched in a sobbing +farewell. Hastily others went out, some glancing at Maggie, and some +resolutely refraining from a look, until all had gone. She was +alone! Just beyond the threshold Joe Thompson, the wheelwright, +paused, and said to the blacksmith's wife, who was hastening off +with the rest,— +</P> + +<P> +"It's a cruel thing to leave her so." +</P> + +<P> +"Then take her to the poorhouse: she'll have to go there," answered +the blacksmith's wife, springing away, and leaving Joe behind. +</P> + +<P> +For a little while the man stood with a puzzled air; then he turned +back, and went into the hovel again. Maggie with painful effort, had +raised herself to an upright position and was sitting on the bed, +straining her eyes upon the door out of which all had just departed, +A vague terror had come into her thin white face. +</P> + +<P> +"O, Mr. Thompson!" she cried out, catching her suspended breath, +"don't leave me here all alone!" +</P> + +<P> +Though rough in exterior, Joe Thompson, the wheelwright, had a +heart, and it was very tender in some places. He liked children, and +was pleased to have them come to his shop, where sleds and wagons +were made or mended for the village lads without a draft on their +hoarded sixpences. +</P> + +<P> +"No, dear," he answered, in a kind voice, going to the bed, and +stooping down over the child, "You sha'n't be left here alone." Then +he wrapped her with the gentleness almost of a woman, in the clean +bedclothes which some neighbor had brought; and, lifting her in his +strong arms, bore her out into the air and across the field that lay +between the hovel and his home. +</P> + +<P> +Now, Joe Thompson's wife, who happened to be childless, was not a +woman of saintly temper, nor much given to self-denial for others' +good, and Joe had well-grounded doubts touching the manner of +greeting he should receive on his arrival. Mrs. Thompson saw him +approaching from the window, and with ruffling feathers met him a +few paces from the door, as he opened the garden gate, and came in. +He bore a precious burden, and he felt it to be so. As his arms held +the sick child to his breast, a sphere of tenderness went out from +her, and penetrated his feelings. A bond had already corded itself +around them both, and love was springing into life. +</P> + +<P> +"What have you there?" sharply questioned Mrs. Thompson. +</P> + +<P> +Joe, felt the child start and shrink against him. He did not reply, +except by a look that was pleading and cautionary, that said, "Wait +a moment for explanations, and be gentle;" and, passing in, carried +Maggie to the small chamber on the first floor, and laid her on a +bed. Then, stepping back, he shut the door, and stood face to face +with his vinegar-tempered wife in the passage-way outside. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't brought home that sick brat!" Anger and astonishment +were in the tones of Mrs. Joe Thompson; her face was in a flame. +</P> + +<P> +"I think women's hearts are sometimes very hard," said Joe. Usually +Joe Thompson got out of his wife's way, or kept rigidly silent and +non-combative when she fired up on any subject; it was with some +surprise, therefore, that she now encountered a firmly-set +countenance and a resolute pair of eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Women's hearts are not half so hard as men's!" +</P> + +<P> +Joe saw, by a quick intuition, that his resolute bearing had +impressed his wife and he answered quickly, and with real +indignation, "Be that as it may, every woman at the funeral turned +her eyes steadily from the sick child's face, and when the cart went +off with her dead mother, hurried away, and left her alone in that +old hut, with the sun not an hour in the sky." +</P> + +<P> +"Where were John and Kate?" asked Mrs. Thompson. +</P> + +<P> +"Farmer Jones tossed John into his wagon, and drove off. Katie went +home with Mrs. Ellis; but nobody wanted the poor sick one. 'Send her +to the poorhouse,' was the cry." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you let her go, then. What did you bring her here for?" +</P> + +<P> +"She can't walk to the poorhouse," said Joe; "somebody's arms must +carry her, and mine are strong enough for that task." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why didn't you keep on? Why did you stop here?" demanded the +wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Because I'm not apt to go on fools' errands. The Guardians must +first be seen, and a permit obtained." +</P> + +<P> +There was no gainsaying this. +</P> + +<P> +"When will you see the Guardians?" was asked, with irrepressible +impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Why put it off till to-morrow? Go at once for the permit, and get +the whole thing off of your hands to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Jane," said the wheelwright, with an impressiveness of tone that +greatly subdued his wife, "I read in the Bible sometimes, and find +much said about little children. How the Savior rebuked the +disciples who would not receive them; how he took them up in his +arms, and blessed them; and how he said that 'whosoever gave them +even a cup of cold water should not go unrewarded.' Now, it is a +small thing for us to keep this poor motherless little one for a +single night; to be kind to her for a single night; to make her life +comfortable for a single night." +</P> + +<P> +The voice of the strong, rough man shook, and he turned his head +away, so that the moisture in his eyes might not be seen. Mrs. +Thompson did not answer, but a soft feeling crept into her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at her kindly, Jane; speak to her kindly," said Joe. "Think of +her dead mother, and the loneliness, the pain, the sorrow that must +be on all her coming life." The softness of his heart gave unwonted +eloquence to his lips. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Thompson did not reply, but presently turned towards the little +chamber where her husband had deposited Maggie; and, pushing open +the door, went quietly in. Joe did not follow; he saw that, her +state had changed, and felt that it would be best to leave her alone +with the child. So he went to his shop, which stood near the house, +and worked until dusky evening released him from labor. A light +shining through the little chamber windows was the first object that +attracted Joe's attention on turning towards the house: it was a +good omen. The path led him by this windows and, when opposite, he +could not help pausing to look in. It was now dark enough outside to +screen him from observation. Maggie lay, a little raised on the +pillow with the lamp shining full upon her face. Mrs. Thompson was +sitting by the bed, talking to the child; but her back was towards +the window, so that her countenance was not seen. From Maggie's +face, therefore, Joe must read the character of their intercourse. +He saw that her eyes were intently fixed upon his wife; that now and +then a few words came, as if in answers from her lips; that her +expression was sad and tender; but he saw nothing of bitterness or +pain. A deep-drawn breath was followed by one of relief, as a weight +lifted itself from his heart. +</P> + +<P> +On entering, Joe did not go immediately to the little chamber. His +heavy tread about the kitchen brought his wife somewhat hurriedly +from the room where she had been with Maggie. Joe thought it best +not to refer to the child, nor to manifest any concern in regard to +her. +</P> + +<P> +"How soon will supper be ready?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Right soon," answered Mrs. Thompson, beginning to bustle about. +There was no asperity in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +After washing from his hands and face the dust and soil of work, Joe +left the kitchen, and went to the little bedroom. A pair of large +bright eyes looked up at him from the snowy bed; looked at him +tenderly, gratefully, pleadingly. How his heart swelled in his +bosom! With what a quicker motion came the heart-beats! Joe sat +down, and now, for the first time, examining the thin free carefully +under the lamp light, saw that it was an attractive face, and full +of a childish sweetness which suffering had not been able to +obliterate. +</P> + +<P> +"Your name is Maggie?" he said, as he sat down and took her soft +little hand in his. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." Her voice struck a chord that quivered in a low strain +of music. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you been sick long?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." What a sweet patience was in her tone! +</P> + +<P> +"Has the doctor been to see you?" +</P> + +<P> +"He used to come." +</P> + +<P> +"But not lately?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you any pain?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes, but not now." +</P> + +<P> +"When had you pain?" +</P> + +<P> +"This morning my side ached, and my back hurt when you carried me." +</P> + +<P> +"It hurts you to be lifted or moved about?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Your side doesn't ache now?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it ache a great deal?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir; but it hasn't ached any since I've been on this soft +bed." +</P> + +<P> +"The soft bed feels good." +</P> + +<P> +"O, yes, sir—so good!" What a satisfaction, mingled with gratitude, +was in her voice! +</P> + +<P> +"Supper is ready," said Mrs. Thompson, looking into the room a +little while afterwards. +</P> + +<P> +Joe glanced from his wife's face to that of Maggie; she understood +him, and answered,— +</P> + +<P> +"She can wait until we are done; then I will bring her somethings to +eat." There was an effort at indifference on the part of Mrs. +Thompson, but her husband had seen her through the window, and +understood that the coldness was assumed. Joe waited, after sitting +down to the table, for his wife to introduce the subject uppermost +in both of their thoughts; but she kept silent on that theme, for +many minutes, and he maintained a like reserve. At last she said, +abruptly,— +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do with that child?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you understood me that she was to go to the poorhouse," +replied Joe, as if surprised at her question. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Thompson looked rather strangely at her husband for sonic +moments, and then dropped her eyes. The subject was not again +referred to during the meal. At its close, Mrs. Thompson toasted a +slice of bread, and softened, it with milk and butter; adding to +this a cup of tea, she took them into Maggie, and held the small +waiter, on which she had placed them, while the hungry child ate +with every sign of pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it good?" asked Mrs. Thompson, seeing with what a keen relish +the food was taken. +</P> + +<P> +The child paused with the cup in her hand, and answered with a look +of gratitude that awoke to new life old human feelings which had +been slumbering in her heart for half a score of years. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll keep her a day or two longer; she is so weak and helpless," +said Mrs. Joe Thompson, in answer to her husband's remark, at +breakfast-time on the next morning, that he must step down and see +the Guardians of the Poor about Maggie. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll be so much in your way," said Joe. +</P> + +<P> +"I sha'n't mind that for a day or two. Poor thing!" +</P> + +<P> +Joe did not see the Guardians of the Poor on that day, on the next, +nor on the day following. In fact, he never saw them at all on +Maggie's account, for in less than a week Mrs. Joe Thompson would as +soon leave thought of taking up her own abode in the almshouse as +sending Maggie there. +</P> + +<P> +What light and blessing did that sick and helpless child bring to +the home of Joe Thompson, the poor wheelwright! It had been dark, +and cold, and miserable there for a long time just because his wife +had nothing to love and care for out of herself, and so became soar, +irritable, ill-tempered, and self-afflicting in the desolation of +her woman's nature. Now the sweetness of that sick child, looking +ever to her in love, patience, and gratitude, was as honey to her +soul, and she carried her in her heart as well as in her arms, a +precious burden. As for Joe Thompson, there was not a man in all the +neighborhood who drank daily of a more precious wine of life than +he. An angel had come into his house, disguised as a sick, helpless, +and miserable child, and filled all its dreary chambers with the +sunshine of love. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHICH WAS MOST THE LADY? +</H3> + +<P> +"DID you ever see such a queer looking figure?" exclaimed a young +lady, speaking loud enough to be heard by the object of her remark. +She was riding slowly along in an open carriage, a short distance +from the city, accompanied by a relative. The young man, her +companion, looked across the road at a woman, whose attire was +certainly not in any way very near approach to the fashion of the +day. She had on a faded calico dress, short in the waist; stout +leather shoes; the remains of what had once been a red merino long +shawl, and a dingy old Leghorn bonnet of the style of eighteen +hundred and twenty. +</P> + +<P> +As the young man turned to look at the woman, the latter raised her +eyes and fixed them steadily upon the young lady who had so rudely +directed towards her the attention of her companion. Her face, was +not old nor faded, as the dress she wore. It was youthful, but plain +almost to homeliness; and the smallness of her eyes, which were +close together and placed at the Mongolian angle, gave to her +countenance a singular aspect. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you do, aunty?" said the young man gently drawing on the +rein of his horse so as still further to diminish his speed. +</P> + +<P> +The face of the young girl—for she was quite young—reddened, and she +slackened her steps so as to fall behind the rude, unfeeling couple, +who sought to make themselves merry at her expense. +</P> + +<P> +"She is gypsy!" said the young lady, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Gran'mother! How are catnip and hoarhound, snakeroot and tansy, +selling to-day? What's the state of the herb market?" joined the +young man with increasing rudeness. +</P> + +<P> +"That bonnet's from the ark—ha! ha!" +</P> + +<P> +"And was worn by the wife of Shem, Ham or Japheth. Ha! now I've got +it! This is the great, great, great granddaughter of Noah. What a +discovery! Where's Barnum? Here's a chance for another fortune!" +</P> + +<P> +The poor girl made no answer to this cruel and cowardly assault, but +turned her face away, and stood still, in order to let the carriage +pass on. +</P> + +<P> +"You look like a gentleman and a lady," said a man whom was riding +by, and happened to overhear some of their last remarks; "and no +doubt regard yourselves as such. But your conduct is anything but +gentlemanly and lady-like; and if I had the pleasure of knowing your +friends, I would advise them to keep you in until you had sense and +decency enough not to disgrace yourselves and them!" +</P> + +<P> +A fiery spot burned instantly on the young man's face, and fierce +anger shot from his eyes. But the one who had spoken so sharply +fixed upon him a look of withering contempt, and riding close up to +the carriage, handed him his card, remarking coldly, as he did so,— +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be pleased to meet you again, sir. May I ask your card in +return?" +</P> + +<P> +The young man thrust his hand indignantly into his pocket, and +fumbled there for some moments, but without finding a card. +</P> + +<P> +"No matter," said he, trying to speak fiercely; "you will hear from +me in good time." +</P> + +<P> +"And you from me on the spot, if I should happen to catch you at +such mean and cowardly work as you were just now engaged in," said +the stranger, no seeking to veil his contempt. +</P> + +<P> +"The vulgar brute! O, he's horrid!" ejaculated the young lady as her +rather crestfallen companion laid the whip upon his horse and dashed +ahead. "How he frightened me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Some greasy butcher or two-fisted blacksmith," said the elegant +young man with contempt. "But," he added boastfully, "I'll teach him +a lesson!" +</P> + +<P> +Out into the beautiful country, with feeling a little less buoyant +than when they started, rode our gay young couple. As the excitement +of passion died away both feel a little uncomfortable in mind, for +certain unpleasant convictions intruded themselves, and certain +precepts in the code of polite usage grew rather distinct in their +memories. They had been thoughtless, to say the least of it. +</P> + +<P> +"But the girl looked so queer!" said the young lady. "I couldn't +help laughing to save my life. Where on earth did she come from?" +</P> + +<P> +Not very keen was their enjoyment of the afternoon's ride, although +the day was particularly fine, and their way was amid some bits of +charming scenery. After going out into the country some five or six +miles, the horse's head was turned, and they took their way +homeward. Wishing to avoid the Monotony of a drive along the same +road the young man struck across the country in order to reach +another avenue leading into the city, but missed his way and +bewildered in a maze of winding country roads. While descending a +steep hill, in a very secluded place, a wheel came off, and both +were thrown from the carriage. The young man received only a slight +bruise, but the girl was more seriously injured. Her head had struck +against a stone with so strong a concussion as to render her +insensible. +</P> + +<P> +Eagerly glancing around for aid, the young man saw, at no great +distance from the road, a poor looking log tenement, from the mud +chimney of which curled a thin column of smoke, giving signs of +inhabitants. To call aloud was his first impulse, and he raised his +voice with the cry of "Help!" +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had the sound died away, ere he saw the door of the cabin +flung open, and a woman and boy looked eagerly around. +</P> + +<P> +"Help!" he cried again, and the sound of his voice directed their +eyes towards him. Even in his distress, alarm, and bewilderment, the +young man recognized instantly in the woman the person they had so +wantonly insulted only an hour or two before. As soon as she saw +them, she ran forward hastily, and seeing the white face of the +insensible girl, exclaimed, with pity and concern,— +</P> + +<P> +"O, sir! is she badly hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +There was heart in that voice of peculiar sweetness. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor lady!" she said, tenderly, as she untied the bonnet strings +with gentle care, and placed her hand upon the clammy temples. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I help you to take her over to the house?" she added, drawing +an arm beneath the form of the insensible girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you!" There was a tone of respect in the young man's voice. +"But I can carry her myself;" and he raised the insensible form in +his arms, and, following the young stranger, bore it into her humble +dwelling. As he laid her upon a bed, he asked, eagerly,— +</P> + +<P> +"Is there a doctor near?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," replied the girl. "If you will come to the door, I will +show you the doctor's house; and I think he must be at home, for I +saw him go by only a quarter of an hour since. John will take care +of your horse while you are away, and I will do my best for the poor +lady." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor's house, about a quarter of a mile distant, was pointed +out, and the young man hurried off at a rapid speed. He was gone +only a few minutes when his insensible companion revived, and, +starting up, looked wildly around her. +</P> + +<P> +"Where am I? Where is George?" she asked, eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"He has gone for the doctor; but will be back very soon," said the +young woman, in a kind, soothing voice. +</P> + +<P> +"For the doctor! Who's injured?" She had clasped her hands across +her forehead, and now, on removing them, saw on one a wet stain of +blood. With a frightened cry she fell backs upon the pillow from +which she had risen. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think you are much hurt," was said, in a tone of +encouragement, as with a damp cloth the gentle stranger wiped very +tenderly her forehead. "The cut is not deep. Have you pain +anywhere?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," was faintly answered. +</P> + +<P> +"You can move your arms; so <I>they</I> are uninjured. And now, won't you +just step on to the floor, and see if you can bear your weight? Let +me raise you up, There, put your foot down—now the other—now take a +step—now another. There are no bones broken! How glad I am!" +</P> + +<P> +How earnest, how gentle, how pleased she was. There was no acting in +her manner. Every tone, expression, and gesture showed that heart +was in everything. +</P> + +<P> +"O, I am glad!" she repeated. "It might have been so much worse." +</P> + +<P> +The first glance into the young girl's face was one of +identification; and even amid the terror that oppressed her heart, +the unwilling visitor felt a sense of painful mortification. There +was no mistaking that peculiar countenance. But how different she +seemed! Her voice was singularly sweet, her manner gentle and full +of kindness, and in her movements and attitude a certain ease that +marked her as one not to be classed, even by the over-refined young +lady who was so suddenly brought within her power, among the common +herd. +</P> + +<P> +All that assiduous care and kind attention could do for the unhappy +girl, until the doctor's arrival, was done. After getting back to +the bed from which she had been induced to rise, in order to see if +all her limbs were sound, she grew sick and faint, and remained so +until the physician came. He gave it as his opinion that she had +received some internal injuries, and that it would not be safe to +attempt her removal. +</P> + +<P> +The young couple looked at each other with dismay pictured in their +countenances. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish it were in my power to make you more comfortable," said the +kind-hearted girl, in whose humble abode they were. "What we have is +at your service in welcome, and all that it is in my power to do +shall be done for you cheerfully. If father was only at home—but +that can't be helped." +</P> + +<P> +The young man dazed upon her in wonder and shame—wonder at the charm +that now appeared in her singularly marked countenance, and shame +for the disgraceful and cowardly cruelty with which he had a little +while before so wantonly assailed her. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor was positive about the matter, and so there was no +alternative. After seeing his unhappy relative in as comfortable a +condition as possible, the young man, with the doctor's aid, +repaired his crippled vehicle by the restoration of a linchpin, and +started for the city to bear intelligence of the sad accident, and +bring out the mother of the injured girl. +</P> + +<P> +Alone with the person towards whom she had only a short time before +acted in such shameless violation of womanly kindness and lady-like +propriety, our "nice young lady" did not feel more comfortable in +mind than body. Every look—every word—every tone—every act of the +kind-hearted girl—was a rebuke. The delicacy of her attentions, and +the absence of everything like a desire to refund her of the recent +unpleasant incident, marked her as possessing, even if her face and +attire were plain, and her position humble, all the elements of a +true lady. +</P> + +<P> +Although the doctor, when he left, did not speak very encouragingly, +the vigorous system of the young girl began to react and she grew +better quite rapidly so that when her parents arrived with the +family physician, she was so much improved that it was at once +decided to take her to the city. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour before her parents came she lay feigning to be in sleep, +yet observing every movement and word of her gentle attendant. It +was an hour of shame, self-reproaches, and repentance. She was not +really bad at heart; but false estimates of things, trifling +associations, and a thoughtless disregard of others, had made her +far less a lady in act than she imagined herself to be in quality. +Her parents, when they arrived, overwhelmed the young girl with +thankfulness; and the father, at parting, tried to induce her to +accept a sum of money. But the offers seemed to disturb her. +</P> + +<P> +"O, no, sir!" she said, drawing back, while a glow came into her +pale face, and made it almost beautiful; "I have only done a simple +duty." +</P> + +<P> +"But you are poor," he urged, glancing around. "Take this, and let +it make you more comfortable." +</P> + +<P> +"We are contented with what God has given to us," she replied, +cheerfully. "For what he gives is always the best portion. No, sir; +I cannot receive money for doing only a common duty." +</P> + +<P> +"Your reward is great," said the father, touched with the noble +answer, "may God bless you, my good girl! And if you will not +receive my money, accept my grateful thanks." +</P> + +<P> +As the daughter parted from the strange young girl, she bent down +and kissed her hand; then looking up into her face, with tearful +eyes, she whispered for her ears alone,— +</P> + +<P> +"I am punished, and you are vindicated. O, let your heart forgive +me!" +</P> + +<P> +"It was God whom you offended," was whispered back. "Get his +forgiveness, and all will be right. You have mine, and also the +prayer of my heart that you may be good and wise, for only such are +happy." +</P> + +<P> +The humbled girl grasped her hand tightly, and murmured, "I shall +never forget you—never!" +</P> + +<P> +Nor did she. If the direct offer of her father was declined, +indirect benefits reached, through her means, the lonely log +cottage, where everything in time put on a new and pleasant aspect, +wind the surroundings of the gentle spirit that presides there were +more in agreement with her true internal quality. To the thoughtless +young couple the incidents of that day were a life-lesson that never +passed entirely from their remembrance. They obtained a glance below +the surface of things that surprised them, learning that, even in +the humblest, there may be hearts in the right places—warm with pure +feelings, and inspired by the noblest sentiments of humanity; and +that highly as they esteem themselves on account of their position, +there was one, at least, standing below them so far as external +advantages were concerned, who was their superior in all the higher +qualities that go to make up the real lady and gentleman. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +OTHER PEOPLE'S EYES. +</H3> + +<P> +"OUR parlor carpet is beginning to look real shabby," said Mrs. +Cartwright. "I declare! if I don't feel right down ashamed of it, +every time a visitor, who is anybody, calls in to see me." +</P> + +<P> +"A new one will cost—" +</P> + +<P> +The husband of Mrs. Cartwright, a good-natured, compliant man, who +was never better pleased than when he could please his wife, paused +to let her finish the sentence, which she did promptly, by saying,— +</P> + +<P> +"Only forty dollars. I've counted it all up. It will take thirty-six +yards. I saw a beautiful piece at Martin's—just the thing—at one +dollar a yard. Binding, and other little matters, won't go beyond +three or four dollars, and I can make it myself, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Only forty dollars! Mr. Cartwright glanced down at the carpet which +had decorated the floor of their little parlor for nearly five +years. It had a pleasant look in his eyes, for it was associated +with many pleasant memories. Only forty dollars for a new one! If +the cost were only five, instead of forty, the inclination to banish +this old friend to an out-of-the-way chamber would have been no +stronger in the mind of Mr. Cartwright. But forty dollars was an +item in the calculation, and to Mr. Cartwright a serious one. Every +year he was finding it harder to meet the gradually increasing +demand upon his purse; for there was a steadily progressive +enlargement of his family, and year after year the cost of living +advanced. He was thinking of this when his wife said,— +</P> + +<P> +"You know, Henry, that cousin Sally Gray is coming here on a visit +week after next. Now I do want to put the very best face on to +things while she is here. We were married at the same time, and I +hear that her husband is getting rich. I feel a little pride about +the matter, and don't want her to think that we're growing worse off +than when we began life, and can't afford to replace this shabby old +carpet by a new one." No further argument was needed. Mr. Cartwright +had sixty dollars in one of the bureau drawers,—a fact well known to +his wife. And it was also well known to her that it was the +accumulation of very careful savings, designed, when the sum reached +one hundred dollars, to cancel a loan made by a friend, at a time +when sickness and a death in the family had run up their yearly +expenses beyond the year's income. Very desirous was Mr. Cartwright +to pay off this loan, and he had felt lighter in heart as those +aggregate of his savings came nearer and nearer to the sum required +for that purpose. +</P> + +<P> +But he had no firmness to oppose his wife in anything. Her wishes in +this instance, as in many others, he unwisely made a law. The +argument about cousin Sally Gray was irresistible. No more than his +wife did he wish to look poor in her eyes; and so, for the sake of +her eyes, a new carpet was bought, and the old one—not by any means +as worn and faded as the language of his wife indicated—sent up +stairs to do second-hand duty in the spare bedroom. +</P> + +<P> +Not within the limit of forty dollars was the expense confined. A +more costly pattern than could be obtained for one dollar a yard +tempted the eyes of Mrs. Cartwright, and abstracted from her +husband's savings the sum of over fifty dollars. Mats and rugs to go +with the carpet were indispensable, to give the parlor the right +effect in the eyes of cousin Sally Gray, and the purchase of these +absorbed the remainder of Mr. Cartwright's carefully hoarded sixty +dollars. +</P> + +<P> +Unfortunately, for the comfortable condition of Mrs. Cartwright's +mind, the new carpet, with its flaunting colors, put wholly out of +countenance the cane-seat chairs and modest pier table, and gave to +the dull paper on the wall a duller aspect. Before, she had scarcely +noticed the hangings on the Venetian blinds, now, it seemed as if +they had lost their freshness in a day; and the places where they +were broken, and had been sewed again, were singularly apparent +every time her eye rested upon them. +</P> + +<P> +"These blinds do look dreadfully!" she said to her husband, on the +day after the carpet went down. "Can you remember what they cost?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eight dollars," replied Mr. Cartwright. +</P> + +<P> +"So much?" The wife sighed as she spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that was the price. I remember it very well." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what new hangings would cost?" Mrs. Cartwright's manner +grew suddenly more cheerful, as the suggestion of a cheaper way to +improve the windows came into her thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Not much, I presume," answered her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think we'd better have it done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," was the compliant answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you stop at the blind-maker's, as you go to the store, and +tell him to send up for them to-day? It must be attended to at once, +you know, for cousin Sally will be here on next Wednesday." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Cartwright called at the blind-maker's, as requested, and the +blind-maker promised to send for the blinds. From there he continued +onto the store in which he was employed. There he found a note on +his desk from the friend to whom he was indebted for the one hundred +dollars. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Cartwright" (so the note ran), "if it is possible for you to +let me have the one hundred dollars I loaned you, its return +to-morrow will be a particular favor, as I have a large payment to +make, and have been disappointed in the receipt of a sum of money +confidently expected." +</P> + +<P> +A very sudden change of feeling did Mr. Cartwright experience. He +had, in a degree, partaken of his wife's pleasure in observing the +improved appearances of their little parlor but this pleasure was +now succeeded by a sense of painful regret and mortification. It was +nearly two hours before Mr. Cartwright returned an answer to his +friend's note. Most of that time had been spent in the vain effort +to discover some way out of the difficulty in which he found himself +placed. He would have asked an advance of one hundred dollars on his +salary, but he did not deem that a prudent step, and for two +reasons. One was, the known character of his employers; and the +other was involved in the question of how he was to support his +family for the time he was working out this advance? At last, in +sadness and humiliation, he wrote a brief reply, regretting his +inability to replace the loan now, but promising to do it in a very +short time. Not very long after this answer was sent, there came +another note from his friend, written in evident haste, and under +the influence of angry feelings. It was in these words:— +</P> + +<P> +"I enclose your due bill, which I, yesterday, thought good for its +face. But, as it is worthless, I send it back. The man who buys new +carpets and new furniture, instead of paying his honest debts, can +be no friend of mine. I am sorry to have been mistaken in Henry +Cartwright." +</P> + +<P> +Twice did the unhappy man read this cutting letter; then, folding it +up slowly, he concealed it in one of his pockets. Nothing was said +about it to his wife, whose wordy admiration of the new carpet, and +morning, noon, and night, for the next two or three days, was a +continual reproof of his weakness for having yielded to her wishes +in a matter where calm judgement and a principle of right should +have prevailed. But she could not help noticing that he was less +cheerful; and once or twice he spoke to her in a way that she +thought positively ill-natured. Something was wrong with him; but +what that something was, she did not for an instant imagine. +</P> + +<P> +At last the day arrived for cousin Sally Gray's visit. Unfortunately +the Venetian blinds were still at the blind-maker's, where they were +likely to remain for a week longer, as it was discovered, on the +previous afternoon, that he had never touched them since they came +into his shop. Without them the little parlor had a terribly bare +look; the strong light coming in, and contrasting harshly the new, +gaudy carpet with the old, worn, and faded furniture. Mrs. +Cartwright fairly cried with vexation. +</P> + +<P> +"We must have something for the windows, Henry," she said, as she +stood, disconsolate, in the parlor, after tea. "It will never do in +the world to let cousin Sally find us in this trim." +</P> + +<P> +"Cousin Sally will find a welcome in our hearts," replied her +husband, in a sober voice, "and that, I am sure, will be more +grateful to her than new carpets and window blinds." +</P> + +<P> +The way in which this was spoken rather surprised Mrs. Cartwright, +and she felt just a little rebuked. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think," she said, after a few moments of silence on both +sides, "that we might afford to buy a few yards of lace to put up to +the windows, just for decency's sake?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," answered the husband, firmly. "We have afforded too much +already." +</P> + +<P> +His manner seemed to Mrs. Cartwright almost ill-natured. It hurt her +very much. Both sat down in the parlor, and both remained silent. +Mrs. Cartwright thought of the mean appearance everything in that +"best room" would have in the eyes of cousin Sally, and Mr. +Cartwright thought of his debt to his friend, and of that friend's +anger and alienation. Both felt more uncomfortable than they had +been for a long time. +</P> + +<P> +On the next day cousin Sally arrived. She had not come to spy out +the nakedness of the land,—not for the purpose of making contrasts +between her own condition in life and that of Mr. Cartwright,—but +from pure love. She had always been warmly attached to her cousin; +and the years during which new life-associations had separated them +had increased rather than diminished this attachment. But the +gladness of their meeting was soon overshadowed; at least for cousin +Sally. She saw by the end of the first day's visit that her cousin +was more concerned to make a good appearance in her eyes,—to have +her understand that she and her husband were getting along bravely +in the world,—than to open her heart to her as of old, and exchange +with her a few pages in the history of their inner lives. What +interest had she in the new carpet, or the curtainless window, that +seemed to be the most prominent of all things in the mind of her +relative? None whatever! If the visit had been from Mary Cartwright +to herself, she would never have thought for an instant of making +preparations for her coming in the purchase of new furniture, or by +any change in the externals of her home. All arrangements for the +reception would have been in her heart. +</P> + +<P> +Cousin Sally was disappointed. She did not find the relative, with +whom so many years of her life had been spent in sweet intercourse, +as she had hoped to find her. The girlish warmth of feelings had +given place to a cold worldliness that repelled instead of +attracting her. She had loved, and suffered much; had passed through +many trials, and entered through many opening doors into new +experiences, during the years since their ways parted. And she had +come to this old, dear friend, yearning for that heart +intercourse,—that reading together of some of the pages of their +books of life,—which she felt almost as a necessity. What interest +had she for the mere externals of Mary's life? None! None! And the +constant reference thereto, by her cousin, seemed like a +desecration. Careful and troubled about the little things of life, +she found the dear old friend of her girlish days, to whom she had +come hopefully, as to one who could comprehend, as in earlier years, +the feelings, thoughts, and aspirations which had grown stronger, +deeper, and of wider range. +</P> + +<P> +Alas! Alas! How was the fine gold dimmed in her eyes! +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Mary!" she said to her cousin, on the morning of the day that +was, to end her visit,—they were sitting, together in the little +parlor, and Mrs. Cartwright had referred, for the fortieth time, to +the unshaded windows, and declared herself mortified to death at the +appearance of things,—"Dear Mary! It was to see you, not your +furniture, that I came. To look into your heart and feel it beating +against mine as of old; not to pry, curiously, into your ways of +living, nor to compare your house-furnishing with my own. But for +your constant reference to these things, I should not have noticed, +particularly, how your house was attired; and if asked about them, +could only have answered, 'She's living very nicely.' Forgive me for +this plain speech, dear cousin. I did not mean to give utterance to +such language; but the words are spoken now, and cannot be +recalled." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Cartwright, if not really offended, was mortified and rebuked +and these states of feeling united with pride, served to give +coldness to her exterior. She tried to be cordial in manner towards +her cousin; to seem as if she had not felt her words; but this was +impossible, for she had felt them too deeply. She saw that the +cherished friend and companion of her girlhood was disappointed in +her; that she had come to look into her heart, and not into the +attiring of her home; and was going away with diminished affection. +After years of divergence, their paths had touched; and, separating +once more, she felt that they would never run parallel again. +</P> + +<P> +A few hours later, cousin Sally gave her a parting kiss. How +different in warmth to the kiss of meeting! Very sad, very +dissatisfied with herself,—very unhappy did Mrs. Cartwright feel, as +she sat musing alone after her relative had departed. She was +conscious of having lost a friend forever, because she had not risen +to the higher level to which that friend had attained—not in +external, but in the true internal life. +</P> + +<P> +But a sharper mortification was in store for her. The letter of her +husband's friend, in which he had returned the due bill for one +hundred dollars, fell accidentally into her hands, and overwhelmed +her with consternation. For that new carpet, which had failed to win +more than a few extorted sentences of praise from cousin Sally Gray, +her husband had lost the esteem of one of his oldest and best +friends, and was now suffering, in silence, the most painful trial +of his life. +</P> + +<P> +Poor, weak woman! Instead of the pleasure she had hoped to gain in +the possession of this carpet, it had made her completely wretched. +While sitting almost stupefied with the pressure that was on her +feelings, a neighbor called in, and she went down to the parlor to +meet her. +</P> + +<P> +"What a lovely carpet!" said the neighbor, in real admiration. +"Where did you buy it?" +</P> + +<P> +"At Martin's," was answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Had they any more of the same pattern?" inquired the neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +"This was the last piece." +</P> + +<P> +The neighbor was sorry. It was the most beautiful pattern she had +ever seen; and she would hunt the city over but what she would find +another just like it. +</P> + +<P> +"You may have this one," said Mrs Cartwright, on the impulse of the +moment. "My husband doesn't particularly fancy it. Your parlor is +exactly the size of mine. It is all made and bound nicely as you can +see; and this work on it shall cost you nothing. We paid a little +over fifty dollars for the carpet before a stitch was taken in it; +and fifty dollars will make you the possessor." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you really in earnest?" said the neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +"Never more so in my life." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a bargain, then." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well." +</P> + +<P> +"When can I have it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just as soon as I can rip it from the floor," said Mrs. Cartwright, +in real earnest. +</P> + +<P> +"Go to work," replied the neighbor, laughing out at the novelty of +the affair. "Before your task is half done, I will be back with the +fifty dollars, and a man to carry home the carpet." +</P> + +<P> +And so she was. In less than half an hour after the sale was made, +in this off-hand fashion, Mrs. Cartwright sat alone in her parlor, +looking down upon the naked floor. But she had five ten-dollar gold +pieces in her hand, and they were of more value in her eyes than +twenty carpets. Not long did she sit musing here. There was other +work to do. The old carpet must be replaced upon the parlor floor +ere her husband's return. And it was replaced. In the midst of her +hurried operations the old blinds with the new hangings came in, and +were put up to the windows. When Mr. Cartwright returned home, and +stepped inside of the little parlor, where he found his wife +awaiting him, he gave an exclamation of surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mary! What is the meaning of this? Where is the new carpet?" +</P> + +<P> +She laid the five gold pieces in his hand, and then looked +earnestly, and with tears in her eyes, upon his wondering face. +</P> + +<P> +"What are these, Mary? Where did they come from?" +</P> + +<P> +"Cousin Sally is gone. The carpet didn't seem attractive in her +eyes, and it has lost all beauty in mine. So I sold the unlovely +thing, and here is the money. Take it, dear Henry, and let it serve +the purpose for which it was designed." +</P> + +<P> +"All right again!" exclaimed Mr. Cartwright, as soon as the whole +matter was clear to him. "All right, Mary, dear! That carpet, had it +remained, would have wrecked, I fear, the happiness of our home. Ah, +let us consult only our own eyes hereafter, Mary—not the eyes of +other people! None think the better of us for what we seem—only for +what we are. It is not from fine furniture that our true pleasure in +life is to come, but from a consciousness of right-doing. Let the +inner life be right, and the outer life will surely be in just +harmony. In the humble abode of virtue there is more real happiness +than in the palace-homes of the unjust, the selfish, and +wrong-doers. The sentiment is old as the world, but it must come to +every heart, at some time in life, with all the force of an original +utterance. And let it so come to us now, dear wife!" +</P> + +<P> +And thus it did come. This little experience showed them an aspect +of things that quickened their better reasons, and its smart +remained long enough to give it the power of a monitor in all their +after lives. They never erred again in this wise. For two or three +years more the old carpet did duty in their neat little parlor, and +when it was at last replaced by a new one, the change was made for +their own eyes, and not for the eyes of another. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's After a Shadow, and Other Stories, by T. S. Arthur + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AFTER A SHADOW, AND OTHER STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 4591-h.htm or 4591-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/9/4591/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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