THE DAWN OF BETTER DAYS.
Mr. Stewart, kind and benevolent as he was, never suffered himself to
be carried away by any impulse, however generous it might be. On the
day which we have named as the second time of meeting with our hero,
when he resumed his pallet-board and began to work on his picture, he
did so with an attention which seemed to rest only on the creation
before him, as if he were forgetful of all lower subjects, or that
there was such a being as a shoemaker's boy in the world.
But the beautiful images that rose from under his hand did not shut
out the figure of the orphan boy as he had twice seen him,--once
beside the grave of his parents, and again in his study. He was not so
absorbed by the love of his art that there was no room in his mind for
the reception of those higher subjects which relate to man's ultimate
destiny. He felt that every one is sent into the world for a great
purpose,--that no man must live wholly for himself, but, partaking of
the spirit of the Saviour, labour for the good of others. The counsel
given long before to the shoemaker's boy, when he met him in the
church-yard at M----, has already proved that he was one who had
admitted the truth into his heart, and the root it had taken there had
only been deepened by the passage of time. And now, as he sat bringing
form after form into beauty from the lifeless canvas, his mind was no
less busy than his hand. How could he serve the interests of true
religion by interesting himself in the fortunes of the orphan boy? And
little Ned Graham,--he, too, was a desolate child. Would William
always remain firm in his integrity, when, growing to manhood and left
unrestrained, he should have full liberty to do as he pleased? He had
acknowledged how easy it was to become used to sin; that, but for the
influence exerted by the pious old watchman, he might at this time
have been far advanced in the road to ruin. Thomas Burton was old;
many things might occur to separate William from that Christian
companionship, and then, could he continue pure in such an atmosphere
as he should be exposed to? And little Ned, was he not rapidly
learning the manners and habits of a street boy? Such were his
thoughts; and with that charity which is expansive in its exercise,
and never faileth in the heart in which it hath taken root, but always
delights in doing good, he resolved to be the helper of these two
orphan boys. But, with the prudence which ought ever to characterize
every Christian effort, he began his task with caution, lest the
endeavour to do good might only be productive of harm.
Little Ned and his good old grandmother were at once cared for; a
commodious dwelling was provided, a physician called in, and the
suffering invalid restored to comfortable health. Mrs. Stewart gave
her suitable employment; and honest Mrs. Bradley, now that she was
within a more convenient distance, did also a Christian's part,
ministering to her constantly in some good deed. Ned was no longer
suffered to run in the streets gathering chips, or asking pennies from
strangers, but placed at school, where, we are happy to say, he made
such progress as to give great satisfaction to his generous guardian.
It was not quite so easy for the Stewarts to dispose of William; and
many were the consultations between Professor Stewart and his son as
to how he could best be served. Believing that Mr. Walters was a most
unsuitable person to have the rule of a boy like William, and pitying
the ignorance in which he was being brought up, he yet hesitated
whether it was his duty to interfere, as he had been given into
Walters' care by his mother. He feared, too, that in exciting wishes
toward other pursuits, he might create a new disgust toward the humble
but respectable trade, the "gentle craft," as shoemaking has been
termed, and which has furnished so many remarkable men; for our
readers are not ignorant that many distinguished as patriots, men of
letters, and useful members of society, have come from the shoemaker's
bench.
While William, therefore, continued more contentedly than ever to
hammer the soles of the new shoes and patch up the old, Mr. Stewart
was taking silent but effective measures for bettering his condition.
He first went to the old watchman, from whom he heard much in behalf
of our hero, and which served to strengthen him in his benevolent
project. He found out from the old man, too, that Mr. Walters might be
induced to give up the boy; the physician who had attended him in his
severe sickness had declared the stooping posture and confinement of
the shop very injurious to him,--that his constitution was by no means
strong, and that he would never be of robust health. Thomas, delighted
that our hero had found a friend like Mr. Stewart, spoke fully on the
merits of his character, and the discomforts of his situation, and the
great danger he was in from evil companionship. This last feature of
the case had more weight with Mr. Stewart than all the rest. He knew
that perseverance under untoward difficulties often accomplished great
things in bringing out strong points of character; that no position in
life, however humble, is an actual bar to intellectual and moral
improvement; and that where there is a _will_, there is always a
_way_. And he knew, too, that the "eye of the Lord is upon them that
fear him, that his ears are open to their cry, and that he is able to
succour them, being tempted;" and, therefore, he pondered the matter
well in his own heart, and consulted often with his father on the
expediency of removing William from the guardianship of Mr. Walters.
A conversation with that worthy at last decided the matter. "Bill will
never make much of a shoemaker," said he; "the doctor is of opinion
that stooping will bring on consumption, and I see he gets very pale
if he works steadily. He'll never be of much use to me, now that he is
getting too old to be an errand boy; and as just at this time I have a
chance of getting a stouter boy for a ''prentice,' you can make what
you please of him, if you pay me something for his time."
The bargain was soon concluded; and William, who, kept in happy
ignorance of what was going forward, had suffered no anxiety, was
amazed beyond the power of language to describe when he was told that
he must give up shoemaking for the present, and be the protégé of Mr.
Stewart, and take time to recruit his health.
Mr. Stewart said not a word about his becoming a painter; he knew too
well how often taste is mistaken for genius, and how many fail of
reaching the high standard proposed by themselves at first setting
out. Nor, much interested as he was, that interest increasing every
day, in our hero, did he at once take him into his own family, as, if
we were writing a romance, we might imagine him to have done; no, he
resolved to try and test his capacities for some time before he would
decide for what post to fit him.
He boarded him with old Mrs. Graham, and sent him to school, where the
orphan boy soon became a favourite, maintaining the same pious
humility which marked the little shoemaker. Great was the satisfaction
of Mr. Stewart as he looked in on the little circle which clustered
round old Mrs. Graham's now cheerful hearth. How much is promised to
him who giveth only a cup of cold water in the spirit of Him who went
about doing good! And the benevolent painter felt the reward of his
good deed fall, like the dew from heaven, refreshingly on his own
spirit. True, his protégés were very lowly; but God is no respecter of
persons, and in radiating this light around the humble dwelling from
which sincere petitions for blessings upon him were daily invoked, Mr.
Stewart proved himself possessed of the true spirit of Christ.
As time rolled on, he became more satisfied that he had done a good
work in removing William from Mr. Walters. He was often invited to
join the family circle; and as he remained not only unspoiled, but
showed that the intercourse was profitable for the growth of his true
character, a closer intimacy at last took place between the little
shoemaker and George Stewart, which merged into a friendship that
lasted through life. George possessed much of his father's talent, but
weak health prevented his making any great advance in the art, and his
early death was the first cloud which overshadowed the brightness of
the family circle.
While the prospects of our little shoemaker were thus improved, he was
by no means so dazzled by his comparative prosperity as to forget his
old friends. Thomas Burton and his good old wife were visited as
regularly and loved as well as ever; and, too happy and full of
gratitude to Heaven for the changed circumstances so kindly
vouchsafed, he sometimes went to see his old master; and, far from
hating the lowly trade as he had once done, he would on such occasions
occupy his old bench and sew a shoe. Jem Taylor was truly glad at
witnessing his improved appearance, and, finding that prosperity,
instead of puffing up his vanity, had only made him more humble, began
really to believe that virtue is its own reward. May we not hope,
since none are beyond the reach of mercy, and since, although the
crimes of the sinner may be as scarlet, we are told that, washed in
the blood of the atoning sacrifice, they can all be cleansed away,
that the influence shed by William's resolution to suffer wrong rather
than sin, brought him at last to recognise the beauty of holiness, and
induced him to seek for pardon where it may be found?
But William's old friends in M----, were they forgotten? No; he had
written constantly to George Herman, telling of his troubles, and now
he wrote to assure him how happy he was. Would our readers like to
know the contents of his letter. We can give them an extract from it.
Here it is:--
Dear George,
I know you will be glad to hear how happy I am, and I know
you will wonder when I tell you of all that has happened. You
know I told you of a gentleman whom I met in the grave-yard
the day before I left M----, and who coloured the little
picture I had drawn. Well, he is a great painter, and as my
health was bad, he persuaded Mr. Walters to give me up to
him, for a while at least, or until I get strong. He gives me
drawing lessons with his own son, who is a very good boy, and
very kind to me; but he does not encourage my giving up my
trade altogether, for he says that many shoemakers have
become great men, and that it is the trade which, of all
others, has produced most remarkable men. He told us about
Crispin, who lived long ago, and about Holcroft, and Gifford,
and Sherman, and John Pounds--the last named being only a
cobbler, and yet he spent most of his life in teaching the
poor. He says that I must draw every day, and by the time the
hot weather is over, he will be able to tell whether or not I
have any real talent, and whether it will be worth while to
continue my drawing lessons. Ah, George, if he says I will
make a painter, then I shall give up shoemaking; but if the
contrary, I will "_stick to my last_," and continue a
shoemaker contentedly so the end of my life, because I shall
believe it my proper place. I go to school now, and for the
present board with old Mrs. Graham, and feel more like being
at home than I have done since I left M----. I would like so
to see you and your good father; and as soon as I have money
enough of my own, I will go to M---- and see you all.
Good-bye, dear George, and do not forget your friend,
William