MAKING OTHERS HAPPY.
William had always been a delicate boy, although, while in the
country, his health was good; but now the confined air of the shop,
and the odour of the leather, and the stooping posture consequent on
his trade, began to tell painfully upon him. He wondered what was the
matter that he did not now ever feel bright and hopeful. He went about
his work mechanically, was listless and silent. His features assumed a
cast of anxiety unnatural in a child, and painful to notice. Still, no
duty was neglected, nor did the Walters notice the change in his
looks, since all allotted services were duly rendered. The young
spirit was gradually yielding to the oppressive yoke, although
patiently borne. But although cast down and perplexed, it was not in
despair. The light commanded by "God to shine out of darkness" still
illumined his heart and gave him comfort, and at the source ever open
to the broken-hearted he could still appeal. Without the support of
that "arm" which is never "shortened that it cannot save," he could
not have borne up under the hardships of his present lot.
He was not sent quite so much into the street as at first; for he
could now make shoes, and his work was valuable to his master. He did
not often see little Ned Graham, as it was only on Saturday evenings
that he carried home the week's work; but he always saw Mrs. Bradley
at her place in the market, and through her sent the pennies he was
able from time to time to gather.
One day Mr. Walters came in from the upper shop with a pair of shoes
in his hand, which he told our hero to carry to Professor Stewart's,
No. 200 ---- street. He obeyed at once, for he was glad to breathe the
open air; but the walk was not productive of the same pleasure as
formerly. His mood was sad and his step feeble; although the air was
only clear and bracing, it sent a chill through his weakened frame,
turning what had once been his favourite recreation into positive
pain. The variety met with in the streets had no power to attract his
attention; the pictures in the windows had lost their charms; the
flashing waters of the noble bay covered with vessels, from whose
mast-heads floated the flags of many nations, failed to awaken his
admiration; it requires lightness of heart to enjoy the beauty spread
around us.
Thus, depressed in body and spirit, he wandered on, mechanically,
noticing nothing until he had nearly reached No. 200. Some one called
him. It was little Ned Graham, who, as usual, was getting pieces of
boards and chips at a new building which was going up. Very thin
indeed was his clothing, and far from healthy were his looks; but the
natural buoyancy, which even the hard hand of poverty could not
entirely crush, remained, and his whole countenance lighted up at the
sight of his friend William.
"What now, Ned?" said the latter as a ray of cheerfulness shot over
his sad heart, on seeing the happiness meeting with himself gave to
the boy; "where are you going so far from home, bare-footed and half
bare-legged, on such a cold day as this?"
"My feet are a little red," said Ned, looking down at his red-hued
supporters; "but I don't mind it much, when I can get such heaps of
wood for the carrying. There was a fire up our way not long ago, and I
got ever so much. We have a great pile now, and grandmother can keep
the fire going. I want to carry all I can before the snow comes, for I
don't expect to have any shoes. But why have you stayed away so long?
Mrs. Bradley gave us the pennies you sent, but grandmother said she
'wanted to see yourself to thank you.'"
"I have done nothing worth thanks, Ned," said William. "I only wish I
could."
"Grandmother said you had been a good friend to us, although you are
but a boy, and only a shoemaker's ''prentice,'" rejoined Ned; "for you
did not only send us the pennies, but Mrs. Bradley too. She has been
so good to us; and when we thank her, she says we ought rather to
thank you. She gave me these trousers; and although they are too
short, I do not care for that, or that the street boys call me 'duck
legs.'"
"It is our heavenly Father whom you ought to thank, rather than either
of us," added William, not noticing the last part of the speech; "but
here is No. 200; stay; let me see. I do believe it is the very house
in front of which I dropped the shoes; that is certainly the window
where the old gentleman stood."
He rung the bell at the basement door as he spoke. A voice from within
bade him enter. He did so, and found himself in a neat room, furnished
with many books. A middle-aged gentleman sat at a table writing, but
laid down his pen in order to see what the intruder wanted. William
stated his errand.
"Ah, yes; shoes," said the gentleman; "I do not know anything about
them; my wife is not at home, but you can come again to-morrow, and
see what she says. You look tired; there is a shilling for you."
William took the money, but as he did so blushed deeply, and seemed
about to return it.
"Why, what is the matter, boy?" asked the gentleman; "do not you think
it enough?"
"O no, sir; indeed not that; indeed it is more than enough; but--"
"But what?" inquired the gentleman.
"I do not want to take it now, so I will send somebody--a little
boy--for it to-morrow."
The gentleman, who now began to suspect that all was not right, looked
very grave, as he repeated the words, "You will send for it to-morrow.
Boy, tell me what this means. It is certainly very strange behaviour.
Nay, you cannot go until you tell me."
William saw it was best to tell the truth, and he did so in as
straightforward a way as possible; and stating at the close that as he
believed he should be questioned whether or not he had received money,
he preferred the gentleman should give it to a boy whom he would send,
so that he might be able to say with truth he had not received any
money.
"Your motive is a good one," said the gentleman; "but you must be very
careful, lest, while you are serving your fellow-creatures, you offend
God. Truth in all things, my boy; let the truth always be spoken, and
leave the issue to One who is himself the Truth. No matter under how
amiable a pretext any one violates the divine law; it is no less a
violation of that pure and holy law; and although there are many who
consider that only the falsely spoken word which passes over the lips
is a lie, there are many other ways of outraging the truth. The acted
lie, perhaps more common than the spoken, is not less hateful in the
sight of Him who is of purer eyes than to behold sin without
abhorrence; and all deception, however skilfully veiled from human
perception, is falsehood in his sight."
"I am sorry, sir," said William; "but I did not know how else to do; I
did not know that would be lying."
"It would be a shifting of the truth, an evasion," said Mr. Stewart.
"If you hope to run your earthly career with safety or success, let
truth be the foundation on which you build it. Falsehood _must_ have
an end, but truth will triumph. Then why distort, or seek to disguise
it, since the Scriptures tell us that 'obeying the truth purifies the
soul?' 'Who shall abide in God's holy hill? who shall dwell in his
tabernacle? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and
speaketh the truth in his heart.' Here is your money, to do with as
you please: you can send the boy, however, to me; if he is as poor as
you say, he must be looked after."
"He was at the door just now," said William, as he looked up and down
the street; "but he must have gone home with his chips, as I do not
see him."
"Very well," was the answer, "send him to-morrow."
A person entering now interrupted the conversation, and our hero
departed on his way. As he turned the corner he found little Ned, who,
not yet tired of gathering sticks, was adding to the weight of his
basket by some spoils from a lumber-yard. He delivered the message
from Professor Stewart, and having given him the shilling just
received, he bade him buy bread for his grandmother, and once more set
off at a round pace for home.
His steps were, however, not so rapid as to banish thought, and
although he dreaded the reproach he would meet, when, if questioned,
he should tell how he had disposed of the money, he never for a moment
swerved from his determination to tell _the whole truth_, let the
consequences be what they might. He was not, however, so much taken up
with his own affairs that he had no sympathy for others. The figure of
little Ned Graham, in his thin clothing, thankful for the slight
warmth afforded by the worn linen trousers which left his meager limbs
bare more than half way from the knee, came still between him and the
dark shadows which his own trials cast upon his naturally bright and
hoping spirit. "I am wrong to be so depressed," he said to himself;
"we may see blessings in every lot, if we are willing to do so; and
poor little Ned is as bright as a lark because he can get wood for the
carrying, although he was shivering with cold, and his face looked
pinched as if he were only half fed. Stay; let me see; I wonder if I
cannot make some sort of shoes for him! There is a pile of old boots
and shoes in the back shop, which Mr. Walters said were not worth
mending, and he would have carted away. I will ask him about them, and
if he has no use for the things, I will make a pair out of the best of
them."
There is no better cure for our selfish sorrow than to plan or execute
something to alleviate the sufferings of others, and now the impulsive
and naturally energetic spirit of our little shoemaker experienced a
sudden rebound at the prospect of what he could do, which beguiled him
back to at least comparative happiness, and lightened for a time his
bondage of depression.
Smile not, dear young reader, that the task was so easily
accomplished. It costs but little to bestow happiness or comfort on
another; but small as is the outlay, nothing brings better interest,
as our poor hero experienced in the sunshine poured in so suddenly on
his lately clouded spirit.
He returned to his home with a lighter heart and more buoyant step
than had accompanied his going forth; and felt not only resolute, but
fully armed to bear whatever reproach or violence he might meet, when
he should be questioned about the money, and declare the truth. His
fears on this occasion were without foundation. Mr. Walters was
satisfied with his reasons for having left the shoes, and asked no
further questions; and Mrs. Walters, not wanting "change," said
nothing about borrowing; so William, truly thankful that all had
passed over so quietly, retired to rest, wearied indeed in body, but
happier in mind than he had been for many days, dreaming not only of
the pleasure he should have in making the shoes, but in seeing little
Ned's black eyes dance for joy in receiving them.