THE POOR BOY.
Not all the fine things that fine people possess,
Should teach them the poor to despise;
For 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress,
That the truest gentility lies.
The following Saturday morning, Frank, Harry, and Laura were assembled
before Lady Harriet's breakfast hour, talking over all their adventures
on the night of the illumination; and many a merry laugh was heard while
uncle David cracked his jokes and told his stories, for he seemed as
full of fun and spirits as the youngest boy in a play-ground.
"Well, old fellow!" said he, lifting up Harry, and suddenly seating him
on the high marble chimney-piece. "That is the situation where the poor
little dwarf, Baron Borowloski was always put by his tall wife, when she
wished to keep him out of mischief, and I wonder Mrs. Crabtree never
thought of the same plan for you."
"Luckily there is no fire, or Harry would soon be roasted for the Giant
Snap-'em-up's dinner," said Frank, laughing; "he looks up there like a
China Mandarin. Shake your head, Harry, and you will do quite as well!"
"Uncle David!" cried Harry, eagerly, "pray let me see you stand for one
moment as you do at the club on a cold day, with your feet upon the rug,
your back to the fire, and your coat-tails under your arms! Pray do,
for one minute!"
Uncle David did as he was asked, evidently expecting the result, which
took place, for Harry sprung upon his back with the agility of a monkey,
and they went round and round the room at a full gallop, during the next
five minutes, while Lady Harriet said she never saw two such noisy
people, but it was quite the fashion now, since the king of France
carried his grandchildren, in the same way, every morning, a picture of
which had lately been shown to her.
"Then I hope his majesty gets as good an appetite with his romp as I
have done," replied Major Graham, sitting down. "None of your tea and
toast for me! that is only fit for ladies. Frank, reach me these
beef-steaks, and a cup of chocolate."
Harry and Laura now planted themselves at the window, gazing at crowds
of people who passed, while, by way of a joke, they guessed what
everybody had come out for, and who they all were.
"There is a fat cook with a basket under her arm, going to market," said
Harry. "Did you ever observe when Mrs. Marmalade comes home, she says to
grandmama, 'I have desired a leg of mutton to come here, my lady! and I
told a goose to be over also,' as if the leg of mutton and the goose
walked here, arm-in-arm, of themselves."
"Look at those children, going to see the wild beasts," added Laura,
"and this little girl is on her way to buy a new frock. I am sure she
needs one! that old man is hurrying along because he is too late for the
mail-coach; and this lady with a gown like a yellow daffodil, is going
to take root in the Botanical Gardens!"
"Uncle David! there is the very poorest boy I ever saw!" cried Harry,
turning eagerly round; "he has been standing in the cold here, for ten
minutes, looking the picture of misery! he wears no hat, and has pulled
his long lank hair to make a bow, about twenty times. Do come and look
at him! he is very pale, and his clothes seem to have been made before
he began to grow, for they are so much too small, and he is making us
many signs to open the window. May I do it?"
"No! no! I never give to chance beggars of that kind, especially young
able-bodied fellows like that, because there are so many needy,
deserving people whom I visit, who worked as long as they could, and
whom I know to be sober and honest. Most of the money we scatter to
street beggars goes straight to the gin-shop, and even the very youngest
children will buy or steal, to get the means of becoming intoxicated.
Only last week, Harry, the landlord of an ale-house at Portobello was
seen at the head of a long table, surrounded with ragged beggar boys
about twelve or fourteen years of age, who were all perfectly drunk, and
probably your friend there might be of the party."
"Oh no! uncle David! this boy seems quite sober and exceedingly clean,
though he is so very poor!" replied Laura; "his black trowsers are
patched and repatched, his jacket has faded into fifty colours, and his
shoes are mended in every direction, but still he looks almost
respectable. His face is so thin you might use it for a hatchet. I wish
you would take one little peep, for he seems so anxious to speak to us."
"I daresay that! we all know what the youngster has to tell! Probably a
wife and six small children at home, or, if you like it better, he will
be a shipwrecked sailor at your service. I know the whole affair
already; but if you have sixpence to spare, Laura, come with me after
breakfast, and we shall bestow it on poor blind Mrs. Wilkie, who has
been bed-ridden for the last ten years; or old paralytic Jemmy Dixon the
porter, who worked hard as long as he was able. If you had twenty more
sixpences, I could tell you of twenty more people who deserve them as
much."
"Very true," added Lady Harriet. "Street beggars, who are young and able
to work, like that boy, it is cruelty to encourage. Parents bring up
their children in profligate idleness, hoping to gain more money by
lying and cheating, than by honest industry, and they too often succeed,
especially when the wicked mothers also starve and disfigure these poor
creatures, to excite more compassion. We must relieve real distress,
Harry, and search for it as we would for hidden treasures, because thus
we show our love to God and man; but a large purse with easy strings
will do more harm than good."
"Do you remember, Frank, how long I suspected that old John Davidson was
imposing upon me?" said Major Graham. "He told such a dismal story
always, that I never liked to refuse him some assistance; but yesterday,
when he was here, the thought struck me by chance to say, 'What a fine
supper you had last night, John!' You should have seen the start he
gave, and his look of consternation, when he answered, 'Eh, Sir! how did
ye hear of that! We got the turkey very cheap, and none of us took more
than two glasses of toddy.'"
"That boy is pointing to his pockets, and making more signs for us to
open the window!" exclaimed Laura. "What can it all mean! he seems so
very anxious!"
Major Graham threw down his knife and fork--rose hastily from
breakfast--and flung open the window, calling out in rather a loud,
angry voice, "What do you want, you idle fellow? It is a perfect shame
to see you standing there all morning! Surely you don't mean to say that
an active youngster like you would disgrace yourself by begging?"
"No, Sir! I want nothing!" answered the boy respectfully, but colouring
to the deepest scarlet. "I never asked for money in my life, and I never
will."
"That's right, my good boy!" answered the Major, instantly changing his
tone. "What brings you here then?"
"Please, Sir, your servants shut the door in my face, and every body is
so hasty like, that I don't know what to do. I can't be listened to for
a minute, though I have got something very particular to say, that some
one would be glad to hear."
Major Graham now looked exceedingly vexed with himself, for having
spoken so roughly to the poor boy, who had a thoughtful, mild, but
care-worn countenance, which was extremely interesting, while his manner
seemed better than his dress.
Frank was despatched, as a most willing messenger, to bring the young
stranger up stairs, while uncle David told Harry that he would take this
as a lesson to himself ever afterwards, not to judge hastily from
appearances, because it was impossible for any one to guess what might
be in the mind of another; and he began to hope this boy, who was so
civil and well-spoken, might yet turn out to be a proper, industrious
little fellow.
"Well, my lad! Is there anything I can do for you?" asked Major Graham,
when Frank led him kindly into the room. "What is your name?"
"Evan Mackay, at your service. Please, Sir, did you lose a pocket-book
last Thursday, with your name on the back, and nine gold sovereigns
inside?"
"Yes! that I did, to my cost! Have you heard anything of it?"
The boy silently drew a parcel from his pocket, and without looking up
or speaking, he modestly placed it on the table, then colouring very
deeply, he turned away, and hurried towards the door. In another minute
he would have been off, but Frank sprung forward and took hold of his
arm, saying, in the kindest possible manner, "Stop, Evan! Stop a moment!
That parcel seems to contain all my uncle's money. Where did you get it?
Who sent it here?"
"I brought it, Sir! The direction is on the pocket-book, so there could
be no mistake."
"Did you find it yourself then?"
"Yes! it was lying in the street that night when I ran for a Doctor to
see my mother, who is dying. She told me now to come back directly, Sir,
so I must be going."
"But let us give you something for being so honest," said Frank. "You
are a fine fellow, and you deserve to be well rewarded."
"I only did my duty, Sir. Mother always says we should do right for
conscience' sake, and not for a reward."
"Yes! but you are justly entitled to this," said Major Graham, taking a
sovereign out of the purse. "I shall do more for you yet, but in the
meantime here is what you have honestly earned to-day."
"If I thought so, Sir,"----said the poor boy, looking wistfully at the
glittering coin. "If I was quite sure there could be no harm----, but I
must speak first to mother about it, Sir! She has seen better days once,
and she is sadly afraid of my ever taking charity. Mother mends my
clothes, and teaches me herself, and works very hard in other ways, but
she is quite bed-ridden, and we have scarcely anything but the trifle I
make by working in the fields. It is very difficult to get a job at all
sometimes, and if you could put me in the way of earning that money,
Sir, it would make mother very happy. She is a little particular, and
would not taste a morsel that I could get by asking for it."
"That is being very proud!" said Harry.
"No, Sir! it is not from pride," replied Evan; "but mother says a
merciful God has provided for her many years, and she will not begin to
distrust Him now. Her hands are always busy, and her heart is always
cheerful. She rears many little plants by her bedside, which we sell,
and she teaches a neighbour's children, besides sewing for any one who
will employ her, for mother's maxim always was, that there can be no
such thing as an idle Christian."
"Very true!" said Lady Harriet. "Even the apostles were mending their
nets and labouring hard, whenever they were not teaching. Either the
body or the mind should always be active."
"If you saw mother, that is exactly her way, for she does not eat the
bread of idleness. Were a stranger to offer us a blanket or a dinner in
charity, she would rather go without any than take it. A very kind lady
brought her a gown one day, but mother would only have it if she were
allowed to knit as many stockings as would pay for the stuff. I dare not
take a penny more for my work than is due, for she says, if once I begin
receiving alms, I might get accustomed to it."
"That is the good old Scotch feeling of former days," observed Major
Graham. "It was sometimes carried too far then, but there is not enough
of it now. Your mother should have lived fifty years ago."
"You may say so, indeed, Sir! We never had a drop of broth from the
soup-kitchen all winter, and many a day we shivered without a fire,
though the society offered her sixpence a-week for coals, but she says
'the given morsel is soon done;' and now, many of our neighbours who
wasted what they got, feel worse off than we, who are accustomed to
suffer want, and to live upon our honest labour. Long ago, if mother
went out to tea with any of our neighbours, she always took her own tea
along with us."
"But that is being prouder than anybody else," observed Frank, smiling.
"If my grandmama goes out to a tea-party, she allows her friends to
provide the fare."
"Very likely, Sir! but that is different when people can give as good as
they get. Last week a kind neighbour sent us some nice loaf bread, but
mother made me take it back, with her best thanks, and she preferred our
own oat cake. She is more ready to give than to take, Sir, and divides
her last bannock, sometimes, with anybody who is worse off than
ourselves."
"Poor fellow!" said Frank, compassionately; "how much you must often
have suffered!"
"Suffered!" said the boy, with sudden emotion. "Yes! I have suffered! It
matters nothing to be clothed in rags,--to be cold and hungry now! There
are worse trials than that! My father died last year, crushed to death
in a moment by his own cart-wheels,--my brothers and sisters have all
gone to the grave, scarcely able to afford the medicines that might have
cured them,--and I am left alone with my poor dying mother. It is a
comfort that life is not very long, and we may trust all to God while it
lasts."
"Could you take us to see Mrs. Mackay?" said Major Graham, kindly.
"Laura, get your bonnet."
"Oh, Sir! that young lady could not stay half a minute in the place
where my poor mother lives now. It is not a pretty cottage such as we
read of in tracts, but a dark cold room, up a high stair, in the
narrowest lane you ever saw, with nothing to sit on but an old chest."
"Never mind that, Evan," replied Major Graham. "You and your mother have
a spirit of honour and honesty that might shame many who are lying on
sofas of silk and damask. I respect her, and shall assist you if it be
possible. Show us the way."
Many dirty closes and narrow alleys were threaded by the whole party,
before they reached a dark ruinous staircase, where Evan paused and
looked round, to see whether Major Graham still approached. He then
slowly mounted one flight of ancient crumbling steps after another,
lighted by patched and broken windows, till at last they arrived at a
narrow wooden flight, perfectly dark. After groping to the summit, they
perceived a time-worn door, the latch of which was gently lifted by
Evan, who stole noiselessly into the room, followed by uncle David and
the wondering children.
There, a large cold room, nearly empty, but exceedingly clean, presented
itself to their notice. In one corner stood a massive old chest of
carved oak, surrounded with a perfect glow of geraniums and myrtles in
full blossom; beside which were arranged a large antique Bible, a jug of
cold water, and a pile of coarsely-knitted worsted stockings. Beyond
these, on a bed of clean straw, lay a tall, emaciated old woman,
apparently in the last stage of life, with a face haggard by suffering;
and yet her thin, withered hands were busily occupied with needle-work,
while, in low, faltering tones, she chanted these words,
"When from the dust of death I rise,
To claim my mansion in the skies,
This, this shall be my only plea,
Jesus has liv'd and died for me."
"Mother!" said Evan, wishing to arouse her attention. "Look, mother!"
"Good day, Mrs. Mackay," added Major Graham, in a voice of great
consideration, while she languidly turned her head towards the door. "I
have come to thank you for restoring my purse this morning."
"You are kindly welcome, Sir! What else could we do!" replied she, in a
feeble, tremulous voice. "The money was yours, and the sooner it went
out of our hands the better."
"It was perfectly safe while it stayed there," added Major Graham, not
affecting to speak in a homely accent, nor putting on any airs of
condescension at all, but sitting down on the old chest as if he had
never sat on any thing but a chest in his life before, and looking at
the clean bare floor with as much respect as if it had been a Turkey
carpet. "Your little boy's pocket seems to be as safe as the Bank of
Scotland."
"That is very true, Sir! My boy is honest; and it is well to keep a good
conscience, as that is all he has in this world to live for. Many have a
heavy conscience to carry with a heavy purse; but these he need not
envy. If we are poor in this world, we are rich in faith; and I trust
the money was not even a temptation to Evan, because he has learned from
the best of all teachers, that it would 'profit him nothing to gain the
whole world, and lose his own soul.'"
"True, Mrs. Mackay! most true! We have come here this morning to request
that you and he will do me the favour to accept of a small recompense."
"We are already rewarded, Sir! This has been an opportunity of
testifying to our own hearts that we desire to do right in the eye of
God. At the same time, it was Providence who kindly directed my son's
steps to the place where that money was lying; and if anything seems
justly due to poor Evan, let him have it. My wants are few, and must
soon be ended. But oh! when I look at that boy, and think of the long
years he may be struggling with poverty and temptation, my heart melts
within me, and my whole spirit is broken. Faith itself seems to fail,
and I could be a beggar for him now! It is not money I would ask, Sir,
because that might soon be spent; but get him some honest employment,
and I will thank you on my very knees."
Evan seemed startled at the sudden energy of his mother's manner, and
tears sprung into his eyes while she spoke with a degree of agitation so
different from what he had ever heard before; but he struggled to
conceal his feelings, and she continued with increasing emotion,
"Bodily suffering, and many a year of care and sorrow, are fast closing
their work on me. The moments are passing away like a weaver's shuttle;
and if I had less anxiety about Evan, how blessed a prospect it would
appear; but that is the bitterness of death to me now. My poor, poor
boy! I would rather hear he was in the way of earning his livelihood,
than that he got a hundred a-year. Tell me, Sir!--and oh! consider you
are speaking to a dying creature--can you possibly give him any
creditable employment, where he might gain a crust of bread, and be
independent?"
"I honour your very proper feeling on the subject, Mrs. Mackay, and
shall help Evan to the best of my ability," replied Major Graham, in a
tone of seriousness and sincerity. "To judge by these fine geraniums, he
must be fond of cultivating plants; and we want an under-gardener in the
country; therefore he shall have that situation without loss of time."
"Oh, mother! mother! speak no more of dying! You will surely get better
now!" said Evan, looking up, while his thin pale face assumed a
momentary glow of pleasure. "Try now to get better! I never could work
as well, if you were not waiting to see me come home! We shall be so
happy now!"
"Yes! I am happy!" said Mrs. Mackay, solemnly looking towards heaven,
with an expression that could not be mistaken. "The last cord is cut
that bound me to the earth; and may you, Sir, find hereafter the
blessings that are promised to those who visit the fatherless and widows
in their affliction."