CLAUDIA TO THE RESCUE.
Let me not now ungenerously condemn
My few good deeds on impulse--half unwise
And scarce approved by reason's colder eyes;
I will not blame, nor weakly blush for them;
The feelings and the actions then stood right;
And if regret, for half a moment sighs
That worldly wisdom in its keener sight
Had ordered matters so and so, my heart,
Still, in its fervor loves a warmer part
Than Prudence wots of; while my faithful mind,
Heart's consort, also praises her for this;
And on our conscience little load I find
If sometimes we have helped another's bliss,
At some small cost of selfish loss behind.
--_M.F. Tupper_.
As Ishmael left the village by the eastern arm of the road a gay
sleighing party dashed into it from the western one. Horses prancing,
bells ringing, veils flying, and voices chattering, they drew up before
Hamlin's shop. The party consisted of Mr. Middleton, his wife, and his
niece.
Mr. Middleton gave the reins to his wife and got out and went into the
shop to make a few purchases.
When his parcels had been made up and paid for, he turned to leave the
shop; but then, as if suddenly recollecting something, he looked back
and inquired:
"By the way, Hamlin, have those Histories come yet?"
"No, sir; but I shall write for them again by this evening's mail; I
cannot think what has delayed them. However, sir, there is one copy that
I can let you have, if that will be of any service."
"Certainly, certainly; it is better than nothing; let me look at it,"
said Mr. Middleton, coming back from the counter and taking the book
from Hamlin's hands.
In turning over the leaves he came to the presentation page, on which he
recognized his own handwriting in the lines:
"Presented to Ishmael Worth, as a reward of merit, by his friend
James Middleton."
"Why, this is the very copy I gave to that poor little fellow on the
hill, last August! How did you come by it again?" asked Mr. Middleton,
in astonishment.
"He brought it here to sell about an hour ago, sir, and as it was a
perfectly fresh copy, and I knew you were in a hurry for some of them, I
bought it of him," replied the dealer.
"But why should the lad have sold his book?"
"Why, law, sir, you cannot expect boys of his class to appreciate books.
I dare say he wanted his money to spend in tops or marbles, or some such
traps!" replied the dealer.
"Very like, very like! though I am sorry to think so of that little
fellow. I had hoped better things of him," assented Mr. Middleton.
"Law, sir, boys will be boys."
"Certainly; well, put the book in paper for me, and say what you are
going to ask for it."
"Well, sir, it is as good as new, and the work is much called for just
about now in this neighborhood. So I s'pose I shall have to ask you
about three dollars."
"That is the full price. Did you give the boy that?" inquired the
gentleman.
"Well, no, sir; but you know I must have my own little profit," replied
the dealer, reddening.
"Certainly," assented Mr. Middleton, taking out his purse--a delicate,
effeminate-looking article, that seemed to have been borrowed from his
wife, paying Hamlin and carrying off the book.
As he got into the sleigh and took the reins with one hand, hugging up
his parcels and his purse loosely to his breast with the other, Mrs.
Middleton said:
"Now, James, don't go and plant my purse on the road, as you did your
pocketbook this morning!"
"My dear, pray don't harp on that loss forever! It was not ruinous!
There was only nine dollars in it."
"And if there had been nine hundred, it would have been the same thing!"
said the lady.
Her husband laughed, put away his purse, stowed away his parcels, and
then, having both hands at liberty, took the reins and set off for home.
As he dashed along the street a poster caught his attention. He drew up,
threw the reins to Mrs. Middleton, jumped out, pulled down the poster,
and returned to his seat in the sleigh.
"Here we are, my dear, all right; the pocketbook is found," he smiled,
as he again took possession of the reins.
"Found?" she echoed.
"Yes, by that boy, Worth, you know, who behaved so well in that affair
with the Burghes."
"Oh, yes! and he found the pocketbook?"
"Yes, and advertised it in this way, poor little fellow!"
And Mr. Middleton drove slowly while he read the circular to his wife.
"Well, we can call by the hut as we go home, and you can get out and get
it, and you will not forget to reward the poor boy for his honesty. He
might have kept it, you know; for there was nothing in it that could be
traced."
"Very well; I will do as you recommend; but I have a quarrel with the
young fellow, for all that," said Mr. Middleton.
"Upon what ground?" inquired his wife.
"Why, upon the ground of his just having sold the book I gave him last
August as a reward of merit."
"What did he do that for?"
"To get money to buy tops and marbles."
"It is false!" burst out Claudia, speaking for the first time.
"Claudia! Claudia! Claudia! How dare you charge your uncle with
falsehood?" exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, horrified.
"I don't accuse him, aunt. He don't know anything about it! Somebody has
told him falsehoods about poor Ishmael, and he believes it just as he
did before," exclaimed the little lady with flashing eyes.
"Well, then, what did he sell it for, Claudia?" inquired her uncle,
smiling.
"I don't believe he sold it at all!" said Miss Claudia.
Her uncle quietly untied the packet, and placed the book before her,
open at the fly-leaf, upon which the names of the donor and the receiver
were written.
"Well, then, I believe he must have sold it to get something to eat,"
said Ishmael's obstinate little advocate; "for I heard Mr. Rutherford
say that there was a great deal of suffering among the frozen-out
working classes this winter."
"It may be as you say, my dear. I do not know."
"Well, uncle, you ought to know, then! It is the duty of the prosperous
to find out the condition of the poor! When I come into my fortune--"
"Yes, I know; we have heard all that before; the millennium will be
brought about, of course. But, if I am not mistaken, there is your
little protégé on the road before us!" said Mr. Middleton, slacking his
horse's speed, as he caught sight of Ishmael.
"Yes, it is he! And look at him! does he look like a boy who is
thinking of playing marbles and spinning tops?" inquired Miss Claudia.
Indeed, no! no one who saw the child could have connected childish
sports with him. He was creeping wearily along, bent under the burden of
the bag of meal he carried on his back, and looking from behind more
like a little old man than a boy.
Mr. Middleton drove slowly as he approached him.
Ishmael drew aside to let the sleigh pass.
But Mr. Middleton drew up to examine the boy more at his leisure.
The stooping gait, the pale, broad forehead, the hollow eyes, the wasted
cheeks and haggard countenance, so sad to see in so young a lad, spoke
more eloquently than words could express the famine, the cold, the
weariness, and illness he suffered.
"Oh, uncle, if you haven't got a stone in your bosom instead of a heart,
you will call the poor fellow here and give him a seat with us! He is
hardly able to stand! And it is so bitter cold!" said Miss Claudia,
drawing her own warm, sable cloak around her.
"But--he is such an object! His clothes are all over patches," said Mr.
Middleton, who liked sometimes to try the spirit of his niece.
"But, uncle, he is so clean! just as clean as you are, or even as I am,"
said Miss Claudia.
"And he has got a great bag on his back!"
"Well, uncle, that makes it so much harder for him to walk this long,
long road, and is so much the more reason for you to take him in. You
can put the bag down under your feet. And now if you don't call him here
in one minute, I will--so there now! Ishmael! Ishmael, I say! Here, sir!
here!" cried the little lady, standing up in the sleigh.
"Ishmael! come here, my boy," called Mr. Middleton.
Our boy came as fast as his weakness and his burden would permit him.
"Get in here, my boy, and take this seat beside me. We are going the
same way that you are walking, and we can give you a ride without
inconveniencing ourselves. And besides I want to talk with you," said
Mr. Middleton, as Ishmael came up to the side of the sleigh and took off
his hat to the party. He bowed and took the seat indicated, and Mr.
Middleton started his horses, driving slowly as he talked.
"Ishmael, did you ever have a sleigh-ride before?" inquired Claudia,
bending forward and laying her little gloved hand upon his shoulder, as
he sat immediately before her.
"No, miss."
"Oh, then, how you'll enjoy it! It is so grand! But only wait until
uncle is done talking and we are going fast! It is like flying! You'll
see! But what do you think, Ishmael! Do you think somebody--I know it
was that old Hamlin--didn't go and tell uncle that you went and--"
"Claudia, Claudia, hold your little tongue, my dear, for just five
minutes, if you possibly can, while I speak to this boy myself!" said
Mr. Middleton.
"Ah, you see uncle don't want to hear of his mistakes. He is not vain of
them."
"Will you hold your tongue just for three minutes, Claudia?"
"Yes, sir, to oblige you; but I know I shall get a sore throat by
keeping my mouth open so long."
And with that, I regret to say, Miss Merlin put out her little tongue
and literally "held" it between her thumb and finger as she sank back in
her seat.
"Ishmael," said Mr. Middleton, "I have seen your poster about the
pocketbook. It is mine; I dropped it this forenoon, when we first came
out."
"Oh, sir, I'm so glad I have found the owner, and that it is you!"
exclaimed Ishmael, putting his hand in his pocket to deliver the lost
article.
"Stop, stop, stop, my impetuous little friend! Don't you know I must
prove my property before I take possession of it? That is to say, I must
describe it before I see it, so as to convince you that it is really
mine?"
"Oh, sir, but that was only put in my poster to prevent imposters from
claiming it," said Ishmael, blushing.
"Nevertheless, it is better to do business in a business-like way,"
persisted Mr. Middleton, putting his hand upon that of the boy to
prevent him from drawing forth the pocketbook. "Imprimis--a crimson
pocketbook, with yellow silk lining; items--in one compartment three
quarter eagles in gold; in another two dollars in silver. Now is that
right?"
"Oh, yes, sir; but it wasn't necessary; you know that!" said Ishmael,
putting the pocketbook in the hand of its owner.
Mr. Middleton opened it, took out a piece of gold and would have
silently forced it in the hand of the poor boy, but Ishmael respectfully
but firmly put back the offering.
"Take it, my boy; it is usual to do so, you know," said Mr. Middleton,
in a low voice.
"Not for me, sir; please do not offer me money again unless I have
earned it," replied the boy, in an equally low tone.
"But as a reward for finding the pocketbook," persisted Mr. Middleton.
"That was a piece of good fortune, sir, and deserved no reward," replied
Ishmael.
"Then for restoring it to me."
"That was simple honesty, sir, and merited nothing either."
"Still, there would be no harm in your taking this from me," insisted
Mr. Middleton, pressing the gold upon the boy.
"No, sir; perhaps there would not be; but I am sure--I am very
sure--that Thomas Jefferson when he was a boy would never have let
anybody pay him for being honest!"
"Who?" demanded Mr. Middleton, with a look of perplexity.
"Thomas Jefferson, sir, who wrote the Declaration of Independence, that
I read of in that beautiful history you gave me."
"Oh!" said Mr. Middleton, ceasing to press the money upon the boy, but
putting it in his pocketbook and returning the pocketbook to his pocket.
"Oh! and by the way, I am told that you have sold that history to-day."
"Yes! for money to buy spinning-tops and marbles with!" put in Miss
Claudia.
Ishmael looked around in dismay for a moment, and then burst out with:
"Oh, sir! indeed, indeed I did not!"
"What! you didn't sell it?" exclaimed Mr. Middleton.
"Oh, yes, sir, I sold it!" said Ishmael, as the irrepressible tears
rushed to his eyes. "I sold it! I was obliged to do so! Patrick Henry
would have done it, sir!"
"But you did not sell it to get money to buy toys with?"
"Oh, no, no, no, sir! It was a matter of life and death, else I never
would have parted with my book!"
"Tell me all about it, my boy."
"My Aunt Hannah has been ill in bed all the winter. I haven't been able
to earn anything for the last month. We got out of money and provisions.
And Mr. Nutt wouldn't trust us for anything--"
"Uncle, mind you, don't deal with that horrid man any more!" interrupted
Claudia.
"Did you owe him much, my boy?" inquired Mr. Middleton.
"Not a penny, sir! We never went in debt and never even asked for credit
before."
"Go on."
"Well, sir, to-day Aunt Hannah wanted a cup of tea so badly that she
cried for it, sir--cried like any little baby, and said she would die if
she didn't get it; and so I brought my book to town this afternoon and
sold it to get the money to buy what she wanted."
"But you had the pocketbook full of money; why didn't you take some of
that?"
"The Lord says 'Thou shalt not steal!'"
"But that would have been only taking in advance what would certainly
have been offered to you as a reward."
"I did think of that when aunt was crying for tea; but then I knew John
Hancock never would have done so, and I wouldn't, so I sold my book."
"There, uncle! I said so! Now! now! what do you think now?" exclaimed
Claudia.
"It must have cost you much to part with your treasure, my boy!" said
Mr. Middleton, without heeding the interruption of Claudia.
Ishmael's features quivered, his eyes filled with tears and his voice
failed in the attempt to answer.
"There is your book, my lad! It would be a sin to keep it from you,"
said Mr. Middleton, taking a packet from the bottom of the sleigh and
laying it upon Ishmael's knees.
"My book! my book again! Oh, oh, sir! I--" His voice sank; but his pale
face beamed with surprise, delight, and gratitude.
"Yes, it is yours, my boy, my noble boy! I give it to you once more; not
as any sort of a reward; but simply because I think it would be a sin to
deprive you of that which is yours by a sacred right. Keep it, and make
its history still your study, and its heroes still your models," said
Mr. Middleton, with emotion.
Ishmael was trembling with joy! His delight at recovering his lost
treasure was even greater than his joy at first possessing it had been.
He tried to thank the donor; but his gratitude was too intense to find
utterance in words.
"There, there, I know it all as well as if you had expressed it with the
eloquence of Cicero, my boy," said Mr. Middleton.
"Uncle, you are such a good old gander that I would hug and kiss you if
I could do so without climbing over aunt," said Claudia.
"Mr. Middleton, do let us get along a little faster! or we shall not
reach home until dark," said the lady.
"My good, little old wife, it will not be dark this night. The moon is
rising, and between the moon above and the snow beneath, we shall have
it as light as day all night. However, here goes!" And Mr. Middleton
touched up his horse and they flew as before the wind.
It was a glorious ride through a glorious scene! The setting sun was
kindling all the western sky into a dazzling effulgence, and sending
long golden lines of light through the interstices of the forest on one
hand, and the rising moon was flooding the eastern heavens with a
silvery radiance on the other. The sleigh flew as if drawn by winged
horses.
"Isn't it grand, Ishmael?" inquired Claudia.
"Oh, yes, indeed, miss!" responded the boy, with fervor.
In twenty minutes they had reached the turnpike road from which started
the little narrow foot-path leading through the forest to the hut.
"Well, my boy, here we are! jump out! Good-night! I shall not lose sight
of you!" said Mr. Middleton, as he drew up to let Ishmael alight.
"Good-night, sir; good-night, madam; good-night, Miss Claudia. I thank
you more than I can express, sir; but, indeed, indeed, I will try to
deserve your kindness," said Ishmael, as he bowed, and took his pack
once more upon his back and sped on through the narrow forest-path that
led to his humble home. His very soul within him was singing for joy.