STARTING WELL.
Never did days drag along more heavily than those which elapsed between
the interview with Mr. Compton, and the morning when George was to enter
upon his new duties. Every day the office was a subject of much
conversation; and neither George nor his mother ever seemed to weary in
talking over his plans and purposes. George wrote a long letter to Mr.
Brunton, telling him of the successful issue of his application to Mr.
Compton, and thanking him in the most hearty way for all his kindness.
The next day Mr. Brunton replied to George's letter as follows:--
"MY DEAR NEPHEW,
"I am delighted to hear that you have obtained an appointment, and
that you seem so well satisfied with your prospects. May you find it
to be for your good in every way. Remember, you are going into new
scenes, and will be surrounded with many dangers and temptations to
which you have hitherto been a stranger. Seek to be strong against
everything that is evil; aim at the highest mark, and press towards
it. Much of your future depends upon how you begin--therefore begin
well; hold yourself aloof from everything with which your conscience
tells you you should not be associated, and then all your bright
dreams may, I hope, be fully realized.
"I shall hope to be with you for an hour or two on Sunday evening.
"You will have some unavoidable expenses to incur before entering
upon your duties, and will require a little pocket-money. Accept the
enclosed cheque, with the love of
"Your affectionate Uncle,
"HENRY BRUNTON."
George's eyes sparkled with delight as he read the letter; and found the
enclosure to be a cheque for five pounds. This was a great treasure and
relief to him, for he had thought many times about his boots, which were
down at heel, and his best coat, which shone a good deal about the
elbows, and showed symptoms of decay in the neighbourhood of the
button-holes.
A new suit of clothes and a pair of boots were therefore purchased at
once, and when Sunday morning came, and George dressed himself in them,
and stood ready to accompany his mother to the house of God, she thought
(although, of course, she did not say so) that she had never seen a more
handsome and gentlemanly-looking youth than her son.
"Mother," said George, as they walked along, "what a treat the Sunday
will always be now, after being pent up in the office all the week. I
shall look forward to it with such pleasure, not only for the sake of
its rest, but because I shall have a whole day with you."
"The Sabbath is, indeed, a boon," replied Mrs. Weston, "when it is made
a rest-day for the soul, as well as for the body. You remember those
lines I taught you, when you were quite another fellow, before you went
to school, do you not?--
"'A Sunday well spent brings a week of content
And health for the toils of the morrow;
But a Sabbath profaned, whatsoe'er may be gained,
Is a certain forerunner of sorrow.'"
"Yes, mother, I remember them; and capital lines they are. Dr. Seaward
once said, 'Strike the key-note of your tune incorrectly, and the whole
song will be inharmonious;' so, if the Sabbath is improperly spent, the
week will generally be like it."
That morning the preacher took for his text the beautiful words in
Isaiah xli. 10, "Fear thou not, for I am with thee: be not dismayed, for
I am thy God: I will strengthen thee--yea, I will help thee yea, I will
uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." These words came
like the sound of heavenly music into the soul of the widow; and she
prayed, with the fervency a mother alone can pray for a beloved and only
son, that the time might speedily come when he would be able to
appropriate these words, and realize, in the true sense of the term, God
as his Father. For George, although he had from early infancy been
brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and had learnt to
love holiness from so constantly seeing its beauty exemplified by his
parents, had not yet undergone that one great change which creates the
soul anew in Christ Jesus.
Mr. Brunton arrived in the evening, just as Mrs. Weston and George were
starting out to the second service, and so they all went together to the
same place. The minister, an excellent man, who felt the responsibility
of his office, and took every opportunity of doing good, was in the
habit of giving four sermons a year especially to young men, and it so
happened that on this evening one of these discourses was to be
delivered. Nothing could have been more appropriate to a young man just
starting out in life than his address. The text was taken from those
solemn, striking words of the wise man, "My son, if sinners entice
thee, consent thou not."
He spoke of the powerful influences continually at work to allure young
travellers along life's journey into the snares and pitfalls of sin, and
pointed to God's armoury, and the refuge from all the wiles of the
adversary.
As the trio sat round the supper-table that evening, discussing the
events of the day, George said--
"I feel very glad that this Sunday has come before I go to Mr.
Compton's. I thought, when the text was given out this evening, that the
minister had prepared his sermon especially for me. I have no doubt all
he said was quite true; and so, being prepared, I shall be able to be on
my guard against the evils which he says are common to those who make
their first start in life."
When Mr. Brunton rose to leave that night, he took George aside; and,
laying his hand on his shoulder, said--
"George, I am glad you have got your appointment, my boy; but I am
sorry, for some reasons, that it is in Mr. Compton's office, for I have
made inquiries about the clerks there, and I regret to find that they
are not the set of young men I should have liked you to be with. Now, I
want you to make me a promise. If ever you are placed in critical
circumstances, or dangers, or difficulties (I say _if_, because I do not
know why you should, but _if_ you are), be sure and come to me. Tell me,
as you always have done, honestly and openly, your difficulty, and you
will always find in me one willing to advise and assist you. Will you
promise?"
"With all my heart I will, uncle; and thank you, too, for this, and all
your interests on my account."
"Good-bye, then, George. Go on and prosper; and God bless you."
Punctually at nine o'clock on Monday morning, George was at the office.
Mr. Sanders, the manager (the old gentleman whom George had seen on his
first visit), introduced him to the clerks by saying--
"This is Mr. George Weston, our new junior;" and George, with his face
all aglow, made a general bow in return to the salutations which were
given him.
"This is to be your seat," said Mr. Sanders; "and that peg is for your
hat. And now, as you would, no doubt, like to begin at once, here is a
document I want copied."
George was glad to have something to do; he felt all eyes were upon him,
and the whispered voices of the clerks rather grated upon his ears. He
took up his pen, and began to write; but he found his hand shaky, and he
was so confused that, after he had written half a page, and found he had
made two or three blunders, he was obliged to take a fresh sheet, and
begin again.
"Take your time," said Mr. Sanders, who noticed his dilemma; "you will
get on right enough by-and-bye, when you are more accustomed to the
place and the work."
George felt relieved by this; and making up his mind to try and forget
all around him, he set to work busily again, and in an hour or two had
finished the job.
"I have done this, sir," he said, taking it to Mr. Sanders. "What shall
I do next?"
"We will just examine it, and then you may take it into Mr. Compton's
room. After that you can go and get your dinner, and be back again in an
hour."
The document was examined, and, to the surprise of George and Mr.
Sanders, not one mistake was found. "Come, this is beginning well," said
the manager; "we shall soon make a clerk of you, I see."
When George went into Mr. Compton's room, and presented the papers, he
was again rewarded with an encouraging commendation. "This is very well
written--very well written indeed, and shows great painstaking," he
said.
George felt he could have shaken hands with both principal and manager
for those few words. "How cheap a kind word is," he thought, "to those
who give it; but it is more precious than gold to the receiver. I like
these two men; and, if I can manage it, they shall like me too."
George had not as yet exchanged a word with any of the clerks; but as he
was leaving the office to go to dinner, one of them was going out at the
same time, on the same errand.
"Well, Mr. Weston, you find it precious dull, don't you, cooped up in
your den?"
"Do you mean the office?" said George.
"Yes; what else should I mean?"
"It seems a comfortable office enough," said George, "and not
particularly dull; but I have not had sufficient experience in it to
judge."
"You see, that old ogre (I beg his pardon, I mean old Sanders) takes
jolly good care there shall be no flinching from work while he's there,
and it makes a fellow deuced tired, pegging away all day long."
"If this is a specimen of the clerks," thought George, "Uncle Brunton
was not far wrong when he said they were not a very good set."
"From what I have seen of Mr. Sanders," he said, "I think him a very
nice man! and as for work, I always thought that was what clerks were
engaged to do, and therefore it is their duty to do it, whether under
the eye of the manager or not."
George got this sentence out with some difficulty. He felt it was an
aggressive step, and did not doubt it would go the round of the office
as a tale against him.
"Ugh!" said the clerk; "you've got a thing or two to learn yet, I see.
You must surely be fresh and green from the country; but such notions
soon die out. I don't like to be personal though, so we'll change the
subject. Where are you going to dine? Most of our chaps patronize the
King's Head--first-rate place; get anything you like in two twinklings
of a lamb's tail. I'm going there now; will you go? By the way, I should
have told you before this that my name is Williams."
"I suppose, Mr. Williams,' the King's Head is a tavern? If so, I prefer
a coffee-house; but thank you, notwithstanding, for your offer."
"By George! that's a rum start. Our chaps all hate coffee-shops, with
the exception of young Hardy, and he's coming round to our tastes now.
You can get a good feed at the King's Head--stunning tackle in the shape
of beer, and meet a decent set of fellows who know how to crack a joke
at table; whereas, if you go to a coffee-shop, you have an ugly slice of
meat set before you, a jorum of tea leaves and water, or some other
mess, and a disagreeable set of people around. Now, which is best?"
"Your description is certainly unfavourable in the latter case; but I do
not suppose all coffeehouses are alike, and therefore I shall try one
to-day. Good morning."
George soon found a nice-looking quiet place where he could dine, and
felt sure he had no need to go to taverns for better accommodation.
When he returned to the office, at two o'clock, Mr. Sanders was absent,
and the clerks were busily engaged, not at work, but in conversation.
Mr. Williams was the principal speaker, and seemed to have something
very choice to communicate. George made no doubt that he was the subject
of conversation, for he had caught one or two words as he entered, which
warranted the supposition. He had nothing to do until Mr. Sanders
returned; this was an opportunity, therefore, for Mr. Williams to make
himself officious.
"Mr. Weston," he said, "allow me to do the honours of the office by
introducing you, in a more definite manner than that old ----, I mean
than Mr. Sanders did this morning. This gentleman is Mr. Lawson, this is
Mr. Allwood, this is Mr. Malcolm, and this my young friend, Mr. Charles
Hardy, who is of a serious turn of mind, and is meditating entering the
ministry, or the undertaking line."
A laugh at Hardy's expense was the result of this attempt at jocularity
on the part of Mr. Williams. George hardly knew how to acknowledge these
introductions; but, turning to Charles Hardy, he said,--
"As Mr. Williams has so candidly mentioned your qualities, Mr. Hardy,
perhaps you will favour me with a description of his."
Hardy rose from his seat, for up to this time he had been engaged in
writing, and, in a tone of mock gravity, replied,
"This is Mr. Williams, who lives at the antipodes of everything that is
quiet or serious, whose mission to the earth seems expressly to turn
everything he touches into a laugh. He is not a 'youth to fortune and
to fame unknown,' for in the archives of the King's Head his name is
emblazoned in imperishable characters."
"Well said, Hardy!" said one or two at once. "Now, Williams, you are on
your mettle, old boy; stand true to your colours, and transmute the
sentence into a joke in self-defence."
Williams was on the point of replying when Mr. Sanders entered. In an
instant all the clerks pretended to be up to their eyes in business;
each had his book or papers to hand as if by magic; whether upside down
or not was immaterial.
But George Weston stood where he was; he could not condescend to so mean
an imposition, and he felt pleased to see that Charles Hardy, unlike the
others, made no attempt to hide the fact that he had been engaged in
conversation, instead of continuing at his work.
At six o'clock the day's duties were over; and George felt not a little
pleased when the hour struck, and Mr. Sanders told him he could go.
Hardy was leaving just at the same time, and so they went out together.
"Are you going anywhere in my direction?" said Hardy; "I live at
Canonbury."
"Indeed!" replied George; "I'm glad to hear that, for I live at
Islington, close by you. If you are willing, we will bear one another
company, for I want to ask you one or two questions;" and taking Hardy's
arm, the two strolled homewards together.
Now George would never have thought of walking arm in-arm with Mr.
Williams, or any of the other clerks; but, from the first time he saw
Hardy, and noticed his quiet, gentlemanly manners, he felt sure he
should like him. Hardy, too, had evidently taken a fancy to George; and
therefore both felt pleased that accident had brought them together.
Accident? No, that is a wrong word; whenever a heart feels that there is
another heart beating like its own, and those two hearts go out one
towards the other, until they become knit together in the bonds of
friendship, there is something more than accident in that.
"How long have you been in Mr. Compton's office?" said George, as they
walked along,
"Nearly two years," he replied; "I went there as soon as I left school.
I was then about seventeen years old; and there I have been ever since."
"Then you are my senior by two years," said George. "I left school a
year ago, and this is my first situation. How do you like the office?"
"Do you mean my particular seat, the clerks, or the duties, or all
combined?"
"I should like to know how you like the whole combined."
"I prefer my desk to yours, because I sit next to Mr. Malcolm, who is
one of the steadiest and most respectable clerks in the office; and
therefore I am not subject to so much annoyance as you will be, seated
next to that empty-headed Williams, and coarse low-minded Lawson. I do
not really like any of the clerks; there are none of them the sort of
young men I should choose as companions. As to the duties, they are
agreeable enough, and I have nothing to find fault with on that score."
"I tell you candidly," said George, "I am not prepossessed in favour of
the clerks; they are far too 'fast' a set to please me; but I am very
glad, for my own sake, that you are in the office, Mr. Hardy."
"Why?"
"Because, although we are almost strangers at present, I know I shall
find in you some one who will be companionable. You don't seem very
thick with the others; you don't join with them in that mean practice of
shirking work directly Mr. Sanders's back is turned; and you don't, from
what I have heard, approve of the society at the King's Head, in which
the others seem to take so much delight. Now, in these points, I think,
our tastes are similar."
"Ah! Mr. Weston," said Hardy, "you will find, as I have done, that
amongst such a set we are obliged to allow a great many things we do not
approve. But I'm very glad you have come amongst us; unity is strength,
you know, and two can make a better opposition than one. Now, will you
let me give you a hint?"
"Certainly," said George.
"Be on your guard with Lawson and Williams; they are two dangerous young
men, and can do no end of mischief, because they are double-faced--sneaking
sometimes, and bullying at others. I don't know whether you have heard
that you are filling a vacancy caused by one of our clerks leaving the
office in disgrace. It is not worth while my telling you the story now,
but that poor chap would never have left in the way he did, had it not
been for Lawson and Williams."
"Many thanks, Mr. Hardy, for your information and advice, upon which I
will endeavour to act. And now, as our roads lay differently, we must
say good evening."
"Adieu, then, till to-morrow," said Hardy. "By-the-bye, I pass this
road in the morning, at half-past eight; if you are here we will walk to
the office together."
It took George the whole of the evening to give his mother a full
account of the day's proceedings; there were so many questions to ask on
her part, and so many descriptions to give on his, and such a number of
events occurred during the day, that it seemed as if he had at least a
week's experience to narrate.
"I like Hardy, mother," said George, once or twice during the evening;
"he is such a thorough open-hearted fellow, and I know we shall get
along together capitally."
"I hope so, my boy," said his mother; "but be very careful how you form
any other friendships."
When Mrs. Western retired to her room for the night, it was not to
sleep. She felt anxious and uneasy about George; she thought of him as
the loving, gentle child, the merry, light-hearted boy, and the manly,
conscientious youth. Then she thought of the future. How would he stand
against the evil influences surrounding him? Would his frank, ingenuous
manner change, and the confidence he always reposed in her cease? Would
he be led away by the gay and thoughtless young men with whom he would
be associated?
Tears gathered in the widow's eyes, and many a sigh sounded in that
quiet room; but Mrs. Weston had a Friend at hand, to whom she could go
and pour out all her anxieties. She would cast her burden on Him, for
she knew He cared for her. As she knelt before the mercy-seat, these
were her prayers:--
"Lord, create in him a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within him.
May he remember Thee in the days of his youth. Heavenly Father, lead him
not into temptation, but deliver him from evil Guide him by Thy counsel,
and lead him in the paths of righteousness, for Thy Name's sake."