I do not believe two more worthy, excellent people could be found than
Gideon Randal and his wife. To lift the fallen, and minister to the
destitute was their constant habit and delight, so that often they
shortened their own comforts for the good of others. Mr. Randal's
friends urged him to reduce his charities, as such generous giving
might mar his fortune and bring him to want; but his unfailing reply
was:--
"I think there's enough left to carry Martha and me through life, and
some over. What we give to the poor, we lend to the Lord, and if a
dark day comes, He will provide."
A dark day did come, but it was not till after he had reached
threescore and ten years. As old age advanced, his little farm had
become less productive, and debts accumulated. Being forced to raise
money, he had borrowed a thousand dollars of Eugene Harrington, giving
him a mortgage on his house for security. The interest was regularly
paid, and with this Esquire Harrington was well satisfied; but he died
suddenly, and his son, a merciless, grasping man, wrote to Mr. Randal,
demanding payment of the mortgage. The old man asked for an extension
of the time, but he pressed the demand, and threatened if it was not
settled within a given time, to deprive him of his home. Mr. Randal
was greatly distressed.
"Martha," he said to his wife, "young Harrington is a hard man. He has
me in his power now, and I fear he will not scruple to ruin me. I
think I had better go and talk with him, and tell him how little I
have. It may be he'll pity two old people, and allow us better terms."
"But husband, you are not used to traveling, and Harrowtown is a
hundred miles away, and you are old and feeble, too."
"True, wife, but I can say to him a great deal more than I can write,
and besides, Luke Conway lives there. I took an interest in him when
he was a poor boy. Perhaps he'll advise and help me, now that I'm in
trouble."
At last, seeing he felt that he must go, Martha reluctantly consented,
and fitted him out with wifely care.
The next morning was warm and sunny for November, and Mr. Randal
started for Harrowtown.
"Gideon," called Mrs. Randal, as he walked slowly down the road, "be
sure and take tight hold of the railing when you get in and out of the
cars."
"I'll be careful. You take good care of yourself, Martha;" and, with a
parting look, the old man hastened on to take the stage, which was to
convey him to the railroad station. But misfortune met him at the very
outset of his journey. The stage was heavily loaded, and on the way,
one of the wheels broke down, which caused such a detention that Mr.
Randal missed the morning train, and the next did not come for several
hours.
It was afternoon when he finally started. He was anxious and weary
from long waiting; and after three stations were passed, he began to
ask questions.
"How long before we get to Harrowtown?" he inquired, stopping the busy
conductor.
"We get there at half past eight."
Another question was upon Mr. Randal's lips, but the conductor had
hurried on. He looked around as if to appeal to some one else, but
turned back, talking to himself. "Not get there till into the
evening," he said, "and pitch dark, for there's no moon now. I shan't
know where to go." The poor old man was sorely troubled.
Presently the conductor came back, and as he passed his seat, he
stopped him again.
"Mr. Conductor, how shall I know when to get out? I've never been to
Harrowtown, and I don't want to get out at the wrong place."
"Give yourself no concern," was the polite reply. "I'll tell you when
we come to Harrowtown. I won't forget you."
Soothed by this assurance, Mr. Randal's mind grew tranquil, and he
finally went to sleep.
In the seat behind him sat a tall, handsome boy. His name was Albert
Gregory. He was bright and intelligent, but his well-featured face was
spoiled by a wicked-looking eye and a hard, cruel mouth.
He saw the aged passenger fall asleep, and nudged his seat-fellow.
"Look there, John. By and by, I'll play a joke on that old country
greeny, and you'll see fun."
On rushed the swift express; mile after mile was passed; daylight
faded and the lamps were lit in the cars, and still the aged man
slept, watched by his purposed tormentor, and the other boy who waited
to "see fun."
At length the speed of the train began to slacken, coming near a
stopping-place. Albert sprang up and shook Mr. Randal violently.
"Wake up! Wake up!" he called, sharply, putting his mouth close to his
ear. "This is Harrowtown. You must get off here."
The old man, thus roughly roused, started from his seat and gazed
around him, bewildered. The change from day to night, the unaccustomed
waking on a moving train, the glare of the lights, added tenfold to
his confusion.
"Wh--what did you say boy?" he asked helplessly.
"This is Harrowtown. The place where you want to stop. You must get
off. Be quick or you'll be carried by."
The noise of the brakes, and the distracted attention of the
passengers on reaching a new station, possibly ignorance of the real
locality on the part of those near enough to have heard him, prevented
any correction of the boy's cruel falsehood. Mr. Randal knew it was
not the conductor who had aroused him; but, supposing Albert to be
some employee of the road, he hurried to the car door with tottering
steps. The name of the station was called at the other end, as unlike
as possible to the name of "Harrowtown," but his dull ears did not
notice it. He got off upon the platform, and before he could recover
himself or knew his error, the train was in motion again.
Albert was in ecstasies over the success of his "joke," and shook all
over with laughter, in which, of course, his companion joined. "Oh
dear! that's too good for anything!" he cried, "aint it, John?"
John assented that it was very funny indeed.
Neither of the boys noticed that the seat lately occupied by poor,
deceived Mr. Randal had just been taken by a fine-looking middle-aged
man, wrapped in a heavy cloak, who appeared to be absorbed in his own
thoughts, but really heard every word they said.
They kept up a brisk conversation, Albert speaking in quite a loud
tone, for he was feeling very merry. "Ha, ha, ha!--but I did think
the old fool would hear the brakeman call the station, though. I
didn't suppose I could get him any further than the door. To think of
his clambering clear out on the platform, and getting left! He
believed every word I told him. What a delicious old simpleton!"
And having exhausted that edifying subject for the moment, he
presently began to brag of his plans and prospects.
"I don't believe you stand much of a chance there; they say Luke
Conway is awful particular," the middle-aged stranger heard John
remark.
"Pooh! shut up!" cried Albert. "Particular! That's just it, and makes
my chance all the better. I've brought the kind of recommendation that
a particular man wants, you see."
"But there'll be lots of other fellows trying for the place."
"Don't care if there's fifty," said Albert, "I'd come in ahead of 'em
all. I've got testimonials of character and qualifications from
Professor Howe, Rev. Joseph Lee, Dr. Henshaw, and Esquire Jenks, the
great railroad contractor. His name alone is enough to secure me the
situation."
At this juncture, the strange gentleman turned around and gave Albert
a quick, searching glance. But the conceited boy was too much occupied
with himself to notice the movement, and kept on talking. Now and then
the thought of the victim whom he had fooled seemed to come back and
tickle him amazingly. "Wonder where the old man is now. Ha, ha! Do you
suppose he has found out where Harrowtown is? Oh, but wasn't it rich
to see how scared he was when I waked him up? And how he jumped and
scrambled out of the car! 'Pon my word, I never saw anything so
comical."
Here the stranger turned again and shot another quick glance, this
time from indignant eyes, and his lips parted as if about to utter a
stern reproof. But he did not speak. Some hidden motive withheld him.
We will now leave Albert and his fellow travelers, and follow good
Gideon Randal.
It was quite dark when he stepped from the cars, and he inquired of a
man at the station, "Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Aaron
Harrington?"
"There's no such man living here, to my knowledge," was the reply.
"What, isn't this Harrowtown?" asked Mr. Randal in great
consternation.
"No, it is Whipple Village."
"Then I got out at the wrong station. What shall I do?" in a voice of
deep distress.
"Go right to the hotel and stay till the train goes in the morning,"
said the man, pleasantly.
There was no alternative, Mr. Randal passed a restless night at the
hotel, and at an early hour he was again at the station, waiting for
the train. His face was pale, and his eye wild and anxious. "The stage
broke down, and I missed the first train," thought he, "and then that
boy told me to get out here. I've made a bad beginning, and I'm afraid
this trip will have a bad ending."
There were other passengers walking to and fro on the platform,
waiting for the cars to come.
One was a plain-featured, honest-looking boy, who had been accompanied
to the station by his mother. Just before his mother bade him good by,
she said, "Lyman, look at that pale, sad, old man. I don't believe he
is used to traveling. Perhaps you can help him along."
Soon a loud, prolonged whistle was heard. The cars were coming.
"Allow me to assist you, sir," said Lyman Dean to Mr. Randal, as the
train stopped; and he took hold of his arm, and guided him into a car
to a seat.
"Thank you, my boy. I'm getting old and clumsy, and a little help from
a young hand comes timely. Where are you going, if I may ask?"
"To Harrowtown, sir. I saw an advertisement for a boy in a store, and
I'm going to try to get the situation. My name is Lyman Dean."
"Ah? I'm sure I wish you success, Lyman, for I believe you're a good
boy. You are going to the same place I am. I want to find Aaron
Harrington, but I've had two mishaps. I don't know what's coming
next."
"I'll show you right where his office is. I've been in Harrowtown a
good many times."
Half an hour later, the brakeman shouted the name of the station where
they must stop. Lyman assisted Mr. Randal off the train, and walked
with him to the principal street. "Here's Mr Harrington's office,"
said he.
"Oh, yes, thank you kindly. And now could you tell me where Mr. Luke
Conway's place of business is?"
"Why, that's the very gentleman I'm going to see," said Lyman. "His
place is just round the corner, only two blocks off."
Mr. Randal looked deeply interested. He turned and shook the boy's
hand warmly. "Lyman," he said, "Mr. Conway knows me. I am coming to
see him by and by. I am really obliged to you for your politeness, and
wish I could do something for you. I hope Mr. Conway will give you the
situation, for you deserve it. If you apply before I get there, tell
him Gideon Randal is your friend. Good by."
Fifteen minutes after found Lyman waiting in the counting-room of Luke
Conway's store. Albert Gregory had just preceded him. The merchant was
writing, and he had requested the boys to be seated a short time, till
he was at leisure. Before he finished his work, a slow, feeble step
was heard approaching, and an old man stood in the doorway.
"Luke, don't you remember me?" The merchant looked up at the sound of
the voice. Then he sprang up from his chair and grasped the old man's
hands in both his own. "Mr. Randal! Welcome, a thousand times welcome,
my benefactor!" he exclaimed. And seating his guest on the office
lounge beside him, Mr. Conway inquired after his health and comfort,
and talked with him as a loving son. It was evident to the quick
perception of the merchant that the good old man's circumstances had
changed, and he soon made it easy for him to unburden his mind.
"Yes, Luke, I am in trouble. Aaron Harrington owns a mortgage on my
farm, and I can't pay him, and he threatens to take my home," said Mr.
Randal, with a quivering lip. "I went to his office, but didn't find
him, and I thought may be you'd advise me what to do."
"Mr. Randal," answered the merchant, laying his hand on the old man's
shoulder, "almost thirty years ago when I was cold, and hungry, and
friendless, you took me in and fed me. Your good wife--God bless
her!--made me a suit of clothes with her own hands. You found me
work, and you gave me money when I begun the world alone. Much if not
all that I am in life I owe to your sympathy and help, my kind old
friend. Now I am rich, and you must let me cancel my debt. I shall pay
your mortgage to-day. You shall have your home free again."
Mr. Randal wiped great hot tears from his cheeks, and said in a husky
voice, "It is just as I told Martha. I knew if we lent our money to
the Lord, when a dark day came, he would provide."
The reader can imagine the different feelings of the two boys, as they
sat witnesses of the scene. The look of derision, that changed to an
expression of sickly dismay, on Albert's face, when the old man came
in and was so warmly greeted by the merchant, was curiously
suggestive. But his usual assurance soon returned. He thought it
unlikely that Mr. Randal would recognize him in the daylight, and he
determined to put on a bold front.
For a minute the two men continued in conversation. Mr. Conway called
up pleasant reminiscences of "Aunt Martha," his boy-life on the farm,
and the peace and stillness of the country town. He thought a railway
ride of a hundred miles must be a hardship for a quiet old man. "It
was a long way for you," he said, "Did you have a comfortable
journey?"
"Well, I can't quite say that. First, the stage broke down and delayed
me. Then I slept in the cars, and a boy played a trick on me, and
waked me up, and made me get out at the wrong station, so I had to
stay over night in Whipple Village. To tell the truth I had a good
deal of worriment with one thing and another, getting here; but it's
all bright now," he added with a radiant face.
"You shall go with me to my house and rest, as soon as I have
dismissed these boys," said Mr. Conway, earnestly; and turning to
Albert and Lyman, who anxiously waited, he spoke to them about their
errand.
"I suppose you came because you saw my advertisement?"
"Yes, sir," replied both, simultaneously.
"Very well. I believe you came in first. What is your name?"
"I am Albert Gregory, sir. I think I can suit you. I've brought
testimonials of ability and character from some of the first
men--Esquire Jenkins, Rev. Joseph Lee, Dr. Henshaw, and others. Here
are my letters of recommendation," holding them out for Mr. Conway to
take.
"I don't want to see them," returned the merchant, coldly. "I have
seen you before, I understand your character well enough for the
present."
He then addressed a few words to Lyman Dean.
"I should be very glad of work," said Lyman. "My mother is poor, and I
want to earn my living, but I hav'n't any testimonials."
"Yes, you have," said old Mr. Randal, who was waiting for an
opportunity to say that very thing. And then he told the merchant how
polite and helpful Lyman had been to him.
Mr. Conway fixed his eyes severely upon the other boy. The contrast
between him and young Dean was certainly worth a lesson.
"Albert Gregory," said the merchant, "I occupied the seat in the car
in front of you last evening. I heard you exulting and wickedly
boasting how you had deceived a distressed old man. Mr. Randal, is
this the boy who lied to you, and caused you to get out at the wrong
station?"
Mr. Randal looked earnestly at Albert. "I declare! Now I remember him.
It is! I'm sure it is."
It was useless for Albert to attempt any vindication of himself. His
stammered excuses stuck in his throat, and he was glad to hide his
mortification by an early escape. Crestfallen, he slunk away, taking
all his "testimonials" with him.
"Lyman," said Mr. Conway, kindly, "I shall be very glad to employ you
in my store. You shall have good pay if you do well, and I am sure you
will. You may begin work at once."
Lyman's eyes danced with joy as he left the counting-room to receive
his instructions from the head clerk.
Mr. Conway paid to Mr. Harrington the money owed him by Mr. Randal,
and a heavy load was lifted from the good old farmer's heart. He
remained a visitor two or three days in Mr. Conway's house, where he
was treated with the utmost deference and attention. Mr. Conway also
purchased for him a suit of warm clothes, and an overcoat, and sent
his confidential clerk with him on his return journey to see him
safely home. Nor was good Mrs. Randal forgotten. She received a
handsome present in money from Mr. Conway, and a message full of
grateful affection. Nothing ever after occurred to disturb the lives
of the aged and worthy pair.
Albert Gregory obtained an excellent situation in New York, but his
false character, and his wanton disregard of others' feelings and
rights, made him as hateful to his employers as to all his associates,
and he soon found it desirable to seek another place.
He has changed places many times since, and his career has been an
unhappy one--another example of the penalty of frivolous habits and a
heartless nature.
Lyman Dean is now a successful merchant, a partner of Mr. Conway, and
occupies a high position in society, as an honorable, enterprising
man.
What is it that gives to the plainest face
The charm of the noblest beauty?
Not the thought of the duty of happiness,
But the happiness of duty.