_The First Sunday at Church._
Wilkins was head clerk in the establishment, and although he had all the
books to keep, his work was lighter than that of any of the rest. He
went to work later in the morning, and left it earlier at night. Besides
being book-keeper, he was a sort of a superintendent of the whole
concern; and the clerks looked up to him as second only to the
proprietor himself. To win Wilkins' favor was to propitiate Mr.
Delancey: a fact well known, and acted upon.
Guly's beauty, or gentle disposition, had evidently gained for him,
through Wilkins, the best stand in the store. His work was light and
agreeable, he had no heavy lifting to do, and the Beautiful, which in
any form was delightful to him, was constantly before his eyes. In
addition to this, the clerk who stood next to him, on his right hand,
was a most estimable and kind young man, of the name of Hull; who used
every effort to assist his young neighbor, in learning to correctly
perform his work, and by his own example, taught him patiently to
endure its tediousness. This, together with the frequent and
kindly-tendered instructions of Wilkins, enabled Guly, who was naturally
very quick, to readily acquire the knowledge requisite for his
situation; and with his brother, nearly opposite, to speak to
occasionally, and to see all the time, he felt that he was highly
favored.
As Mr. Delancey had never shown any interest in the matter of their
board, they still continued to "victual," as Wilkins called it, at the
restaurant, and sleep at the store. By dint of working a little before
going to bed every night, the brothers, without reminding Wilkins of his
promise to "see to it," had managed to make their sleeping apartment
present a very habitable appearance.
As every moment of their time, since their arrival, had been taken up
with business, they remained in their room the first Sunday, without
going to church; feeling that for each of them to pour into the fond
breast of their distant mother all the thoughts, feelings, and events,
which they had experienced since they had left her side, would be as
acceptable to Him whose day it was, as to attend church, leaving her to
mourn in anxious uncertainty as to their safety or happiness. The
succeeding Sabbath, however, they rose early, and, after performing
their devotional exercises, prepared themselves to attend public
worship.
While waiting for the bell to ring, they sought Wilkins, for the
purpose of inquiring what church Mr. Delancey attended. Wilkins had
taken possession of the merchant's seat at the high desk when they found
him, and, as usual had his coat off, reading.
He looked up, apparently a good deal surprised, as they put the question
to him, and exclaimed, rather dryly:
"Why, you don't say you're going to church!"
"Certainly, Mr. Wilkins. Won't you go with us?"
"Ah! not I."
"Do you never go?"
"I used to, but it was a long time ago. You forget that I have been in
New-Orleans five years."
"No, we don't forget that. Mr. Hull said, the other day, that Mr.
Delancey would never get as good a clerk as you again, or one that would
be as faithful, and remain with him so long. But does being here a few
years make any difference about going to church?"
"I'm afraid you'll find so."
"How can you spend so much unoccupied time without church, Wilkins?"
said Guly, earnestly, stepping up on the chair round, and seating
himself quietly on the head clerk's knee.
Wilkins flung down the novel he had been reading, and, reaching out his
strong arms, clasped both hands round the slender figure sitting there,
and, throwing back his head, looked thoughtfully into the boy's blue
eyes.
"I spend it," said he, at length, speaking in a suppressed voice, and
more as if talking to himself than another, "in racing on the Shell
Road, in betting on fast horses, in excursions out of town, and in
visiting"--he stopped short, then added, through his shut teeth, after
an instant's pause--"places which I hope to God you'll never know more
about than you do now."
"Are you going to the race-course to-day?" asked Guly, suddenly lifting
his head.
"I don't feel quite well. No, I reckon not," returned Wilkins,
disjointedly, and moving uneasily in his chair.
"I weary you," said the boy, gently essaying to leave his seat on the
head clerk's knee.
"No! no! you don't!" cried the other, eagerly; and suddenly drawing the
bright head down upon his bosom, he added, in a voice of deep emotion,
"Oh, that I had you always thus to lie upon my heart, and keep the evil
out!"
The church bell at this moment began to ring, and, having ascertained
where the Episcopal Church was, the brothers started forth, and,
arm-in-arm, walked briskly forward. Whenever Guly looked back at the
tall store, towering up above its brick-and-mortar neighbors so proudly,
he thought of Wilkins sitting in there in the gloom, all alone, and
wishing for some one to lay upon his heart, and keep the evil out.
When they reached the church, Arthur asked the sexton if Mr. Delancey's
pew was full, and, on being informed there was no one in it but himself
and wife, he desired to be shown to it. It was situated quite at the
head of the aisle, near the pulpit; and the sexton's hand was on the
door, before the merchant, who was sitting in his usual position, bolt
upright, in the pew, noticed their approach.
When his eyes fell upon his two new clerks, the frown between his eyes
deepened very visibly, while his whole face wore a look of angry
astonishment. Holding the door shut, as the sexton, with his best bow,
attempted to open it, Mr. Delancey leaned out, and, in a harsh whisper
to Arthur, which was loud enough to reach Guly's ear, exclaimed:
"What the devil do you want? I hope you don't expect to sit with me? Up
gallery with you! There's seats enough for your class there."
So saying, the merchant jerked himself back, and, resuming his stiff
position in the pew, looked straight ahead with his stony eyes, as if
utterly unconscious of any one else.
With burning cheeks the brothers took their way down the carpeted aisle,
and reached the pillared porch.
"I'm not going up there to sit," said the elder brother, proudly; "if
there is no place for me below, there is no place for me in the
gallery;" and flinging off the gentle hand that would have detained
him, he sprang down the granite steps, and started at a rapid pace down
the street.
Guly stood for a moment, gazing anxiously after him, half-tempted to
follow, but seeing his brother took the direction towards the store, he
decided to remain, and mounting the winding stairs, found himself in the
spacious but scantily peopled gallery.
Guly's was a pure mind, unaccustomed to drawing sarcastic comparisons,
or indulging in bitter fancies; but, as he looked down into the body of
the church, he could not help wondering to himself which were the most
acceptable in God's sight: the mass of life, bowing and swaying in their
costly array of silks and laces, and fine cloth, kneeling on their
velvet cushions, and bending their brows upon their jeweled hands, or
the few earnest and devout, seated in the unornamented gallery, kneeling
upon bare floors, seated on uncushioned benches, bending their hearts in
simple worship to Him whose Word they came to hear.