A TIME OF TRIAL.
A time of trial was approaching, a trial that was to decide whether
the good seed sown by the pious parents had taken root in good soil,
and was able to endure the ordeal of strong temptation.
Jem Taylor, the only one who ever showed poor Will any kindness,
knowing of his great love for painting,--for to him only had he shown
his little charcoal sketches--had no regard for truth, and, on account
of his naturally kind and liberal disposition, was only the more
dangerous as a companion for our hitherto differently trained hero.
Seeing him one day returning exhausted and out of breath, his hands
trembling so that he could scarcely hold his work, he began to
administer the palatable poison which every human heart is only too
ready to receive. "I tell you, Bill," said he, "you are the biggest
blockhead I ever saw. If you like to look at the pictures, stand at
the windows as long as you please, and do not run yourself to death.
Just look at the other shoemakers' boys; they hang their string of
boots and shoes over their shoulders, and go whistling and singing
along the streets quite at their ease, playing marbles at the corners
for pennies with the newspaper boys;--they know how to lie it out so
as to escape beating, and have always some coppers in their pockets.
When old Walters rates you for staying, cannot you say that Mr.
So-and-So made you wait so long before he would give you the money; or
that Mrs. Somebody was not at home, and the cook told you to stay, for
she would be back in a minute, and you could not be paid until they
were tried on?"
Will was startled. He let the shoe he was mending fall from his hands,
and gazed with terror and astonishment on his reckless companion.
"Why, that would be--lying!" said he slowly and in a low voice, as if
he dreaded to utter the hateful word.
"To be sure it is lying, and nothing else," answered Jem, laughing;
"everybody lies, cannot you do so too?"
The blood mounted to the temples of the indignant boy, spreading its
glow over his fair forehead, and causing his usually gentle eyes to
flush with righteous anger.
"I a liar! I tell a lie?" he cried. "No! not to escape a beating every
day will I tell a falsehood!"
"And why not, you silly jackanapes?" asked his ungodly comrade, in a
tone of derision.
"Because my parents taught me it was sinful, and God has forbidden
it," said William. "My mother always told me that lying was the first
step in the road to ruin; and I read in my Bible that no one 'that
loveth and maketh a lie' can enter into that Holy City of which God
himself is the glory and the light."
Dear young reader, how glorious is the majesty of truth! The
dissipated and sin-loving journeyman, long since made familiar with
vice, could not listen unmoved as the boy uttered the scriptural
denunciation in the solemn and reverential manner he had been taught
was proper, it was long since Jem Taylor had heard any word from that
holy book, and now, awed by the dignity of the truth, that great
principle of Christian life and conduct, he made no answer, but
continued to work in silence. Perhaps he might have resumed the
subject; but Mr. Walters came in and commenced the usual
fault-finding, and Jem answering reproach with reproach, there was
nothing more said.
One day soon after, William was directed to go to the upper shop for a
pair of white satin shoes, which he was to carry to a wealthy lady who
lived during the summer months in a handsome cottage in the suburbs.
How happy he was at thought of seeing something like the country once
more! and he started off at full speed, his elastic spirit happy and
hopeful as if it had never known a sorrow. The sunshine was so
cheering, and rested so brightly on the spires as it bathed them in
its golden radiance, that his whole mood partook of the genial glow.
He had reached the upper part of the city, and was quite in the
neighbourhood of the house where the shoes were to be left, when a
large dog coming round the corner at a speed as rapid as his own, ran
directly in his way, and threw him over. There had been a heavy shower
in the early part of the afternoon, the gutters were still full of
water, and although he was not hurt by his fall, yet in the shock the
shoes were dashed from his hand, and fell into the muddy bath.
With feelings of terror not to be described, our poor hero saw the
black fluid streaming over the beautiful shoes; and after having stood
for a moment as if paralyzed, he plunged his hand into the filthy pool
and drew them out.
He might have served as a study for a painter as he stood surveying
the consequences of the mishap; his countenance expressed almost every
emotion of the human mind, as he held up the shoes and tried to wipe
away the black mud which dyed them, until at length, finding all his
efforts ineffectual, he burst into a fit of passionate weeping.
Do not think his tears were puerile; his spirit was naturally strong,
but he was only a child, and his bodily frame weak from want of
nourishing food.
Bitter was his grief; and altogether at a loss how to proceed, for a
moment he was tempted to resolve never again to face his unkind
guardian, and seek another home, no matter where; he believed he could
not be worse off. But those early teachings drawn from the Scripture
rules, which had been so prayerfully impressed upon his plastic mind
in the little cottage at M----, now came back upon his heart; the
remembrance of his parents came vividly before him, and he determined
to act as they would have advised--namely, openly and according to the
truth; he would be upright, let the consequences be to himself what
they might.
Providence, however, that so kindly watches over all who put their
trust in him, and suffers none to be tempted beyond what they can
bear, had raised up a friend to help in this hour of need.
Attracted by the beauty of the sunset, an old gentleman of most
reverential aspect was looking from the window of one of the
handsomest houses in the square, but was not so lost in contemplation
of the clouds that he had not observed poor William and pitied his
misfortune.
"Did your father send you with these shoes, boy?" said he; "why do you
cry so bitterly about the misfortune which cannot be helped?"
"Dear sir," replied William, as he raised up the ruined shoes, from
which the muddy water was still dripping, "I have no father nor mother
now; my master will be very angry and beat me. I am sure I could not
help it;" and a fresh flood of tears proved his grief for the
disaster.
"How much did he tell you to ask for the shoes?" inquired the old
gentleman.
The boy named the amount, at the same time wiping the shoes with the
corner of his blue blouse.
"Here, boy, give this to your master to pay him for the shoes," said
the gentleman, throwing him some money from the window; "and here is a
shilling for yourself; I think you are an honest boy, so keep that to
indemnify you for your fright."
William was amazed, but before he had time to thank the kind stranger,
he had turned away, and the vacated place was filled by a
different-looking object. A little, mirthful-looking, fair-haired
girl, about seven years old, carrying a doll nearly as large as
herself in her arms, looked from the window, and seeing our poor hero,
burst into a loud fit of laughter, for which he could not account.
Although anxious to know the cause, he was too bashful to ask the
reason, and as she retreated almost immediately, he, after waiting a
few minutes in hopes the gentleman would re-appear, was compelled to
retrace the way which led to his cheerless home.
"What have you been doing, you idle scamp?" exclaimed Mr. Walters, as
he entered; "have you been fighting with street-boys, or wrestling
with chimney-sweeps? Look at yourself, what a figure you make with all
the mud of the street on your face!" and pushing him before a small
looking-glass that hung in the shop, bade him account for the
"condition of this beautiful visage."
The poor boy had dried his tears with the same corner of his blouse
with which he had wiped the gutter-soiled shoes, and had thus
transferred the black mud to his face; and as he surveyed his changed
countenance in the glass, he recollected, and was at no loss to
account for the little maiden's burst of laughter. Forgetting that his
stern master stood beside him, and the bitter tears he had so lately
shed, with that buoyancy of spirit which is the peculiar property of
childhood, and surmounts all rules, he laughed aloud until recalled to
his usual gravity by some blows on his shoulders from his master's
heavy hand. "How dare you laugh so impertinently in my presence?" he
asked, while administering the remedy of the strap, which he
considered a specific for all misdemeanours; and now not only stopped
the poor boy's laughing, but caused him to tremble under the
undeserved punishment.
"Where is the money for the shoes?" he thundered forth, when he found
time to speak.
William handed it to him, and detailed the whole circumstance, not
concealing that the gentleman had given him a shilling for himself.
"Give it here," said Mr. Walters; "boys like you, who have everything
found them, have no need of money; it only serves to lead them into
mischief;" and taking up his hat, and bidding his wife have supper in
half an hour, he left the shop.
"Bill Raymond, you are one of the grandest of donkey-headed fools I
ever saw in my life," said Jem Taylor, as soon as they were alone,
after examining that the door leading to the kitchen was shut. "Why
did you give him the shilling, which was your own? The price of the
shoes, too, you might have kept, for your honesty did not save you
from a beating. Why did you say anything about it'! I would have taken
the beating and kept the money."
We have mentioned how Will met and triumphed over the first
temptation; and when Taylor had repeatedly afterward assailed him with
like arguments, he had never wavered; and the only consequence of his
advice had been to create dislike and mistrust of one who could
advocate a practice so entirely at variance with the law of God. But
now he listened to the tempter, and without reproof of the sin which
he could not fail to recognise.
"After all," said he to himself, "Jem Taylor is right; I get beaten
whether I am honest or not, and that money would have bought me many
nice things. Yes, and I am so often hungry; and when I see the street
boys spending pennies at the cake stalls and I have nothing, it makes
me so angry; and I cannot bear this old Walters. I know I will not be
so foolish another time; but I will keep at least the money which is
given to myself, and take good care he shall know nothing about it."
And why was his frame of mind so changed? Why did he view the
deception as less repulsive than at first? The reason is easily told:
he had relaxed his watchfulness in adhering to the path of duty, and
although careful still to say the prayer taught him by those whose
memory was as vividly dear as ever, it was more the form of words than
the heart-prompted petition. Alas! the poisonous influence around him
was beginning to tell, and he would soon throw off the only armour
that could shield him from the temptations of the wicked, or guard
against the more insidious attacks of his own deceiving and deceitful
heart. He was not more happy, although in liking Jem Taylor better he
had become more, reckless, and listened to his advice more patiently
than at first; and although he still prayed, "Lead me not into
temptation, but deliver me from evil," he did not take in its
spiritual meaning, and forgot the Saviour's injunction to "watch" as
well as "pray."
But God, who knows all man's weakness, and whose mercy exceeds even
man's sin, raised up at this time a friend for the desolate boy--it
seemed as though to preserve him from the peril with which he was
menaced. There were but one or two of the neighbours who ever visited
the Walters, for the master was too surly and the mistress too
penurious to exchange hospitality with any one. The tailor, next door,
could come but seldom, as he was always busy; but the watchman of that
district, who lived but a few doors distant, and whose wife sold Mrs.
Walters milk, came more frequently than the tailor, and as he was a
conversable man and understood politics, Walters was rather glad of
his coming than otherwise. Will was generally sent for the milk, and
his pale face and dejected look awakened the sympathies of this honest
and God-fearing couple. They soon learned that he was an orphan, and
Thomas Burton, the good watchman, having noticed the harsh treatment
he received, and not at all ignorant of Jem Taylor's character, and
the danger he was in of being led astray, determined to watch over
him, and, if possible, prevent his being ruined. He therefore
encouraged him in every way he could, and the gleams of sunlight his
kindness and sympathy shed on the dark path of the orphan boy, showed
that he was no stranger to that "charity" which, taught by the gospel,
"never faileth," and is "kind."
After the first temptation to falsehood, William had avoided Jem
Taylor as much as possible; but now, in consequence of his "consenting
to be enticed to sin," he rather shunned the good Burtons, and took
more pleasure in listening to the slang of the shop than in his own
thoughts. He suffered his mind to dwell on the advice given him in
relation to the price of the shoes and the shilling, and grieved over
the loss of both, until he no longer considered that keeping the price
of the shoes would have been a dishonest act. He began to be of Jem's
opinion, that he had shown himself a blockhead, and resolved to act
differently in future. "But, indeed, I would have liked to thank that
good old gentleman," said he to himself; "although I was none the
better for the money. It is a pity he does not know that Mr. Walters
took it all; but I will try not to think any more about it. I know now
what I will do," he cried, as a sudden thought struck him; "that
little girl with the large doll must be his daughter, so I will make a
pair of little shoes for the waxen lady."
William carried his purpose into execution. In the evening, when the
working hours were over, he gathered up some scraps of red morocco
which had been thrown aside as useless, and carried them up to the
attic where he slept, so that as soon as daylight appeared he might
begin his work. This he did, and had cut out and nearly half made a
pair of doll's boots before the usual time of going to work. He could
not, however, find any red ribbon with which to bind and tie them;
some bits of blue were lying about, and as he had not a penny to
purchase that which was suitable, he was obliged to use it. The next
morning saw them finished, and wrapping them up in a small packet, he
put it in his pocket, and went to his work quite happy that he had
been able to accomplish his task without the knowledge of his master.
The new satin shoes, made in place of those which had fallen into the
gutter, were finished and brought in by evening, and although it was
almost sundown, and the walk a long one, William was only too happy to
be charged with their delivery. He set forth cheerily, and as he
approached the house from whence the money had been thrown him, his
heart beat joyfully--yes, that was the very window where the kind old
gentleman stood; and, a better sight than that, the outer door stood
open. It was but the work of a moment to seat himself on the broad
marble steps and write on his packet, with a bit of lead pencil, "The
shoemaker's boy returns thanks for the kindness of the other day," and
placed it in a corner of the vestibule, where it could not fail to be
noticed.
This done, he set off at his usual rate of speed, and without once
looking round to see if he had been observed, he hurried on to the
dwelling of the lady for whom the shoes were made. She was much
pleased with them, paid the price, sent a new order to Mr. Walters,
and gave him a sixpence for himself. William, altogether rejoiced at
receiving the gift, trifling as it was, resolved in this case to do as
Jem Taylor advised; he would _not_ give it to Mr. Walters; and if he
asked anything about it, he would _say_ he had received nothing. "No,
I will spend it before I get home," he said half aloud, and took the
direction which led to a baker's shop, where he would buy and feast
upon rolls.
But something more attractive in the shape of a picture shop came
before him; rolls and gingerbread were forgotten in the delight he
experienced in feasting his eyes on some paintings in the window. "I
really will try to draw that old man and his dog," said he to himself;
"but then I have no paper; ah yes, the sixpence the lady gave me!" and
with the welcome recollection he turned away from the tempting sight,
purchased some paper and ran home, which he reached in good time.