"Give us this day our daily bread."
I WILL now pass over a space of ten years, with all its joys and
sorrows, its hopes and fears, and take my reader once more to E—.
The village has grown into a town: tall rows of houses stretch along
the coast, on one side a square is commenced, and though "the season"
is now nearly over, enough of life and bustle remain to denote a
flourishing watering-place. There is, however, little change to be seen
in the small humble dwelling of Viner, and almost as little alteration
in the appearance of its master, who, save a few more gray hairs, a
few more furrows on his cheek, looks much the same as when he appeared
before us last. We shall, however, scarcely recognise Nelly in the
tall, delicate girl, who has almost grown into the young woman; or the
convict's son in the powerful youth, who still serves in the shop of
his benefactor.
How has time passed with them during these long years? They seem to
have made little progress in the road to fortune—has the promise of the
Lord been to them in vain? No; though life has been a struggle with
poverty and care, it has been a struggle cheered by love and hope; the
bread earned by virtuous industry has been so sweet, the sleep after
labour so calm; unkind words, peevish complaints have in that dwelling
been unheard, the peace of God rests like sunshine upon it!
I cannot, however, say that Walter's spirit never fretted against
poverty, that he never longed to place those whom he loved above all
danger of want. He had learned much of religion beneath Viner's roof;
he had seen its power to comfort the soul under trials, but he was yet
young and impetuous in all his feelings, his faith was weak, his will
unsubdued; in life's school he had yet much to learn.
And never had his faith been more tried than now, for Nelly, without
any apparent complaint, seemed gradually losing all strength and
colour, and looked like a flower fading away. She had for some years
taken in needlework, to eke out her father's scanty living; she had
worked early and late with cheerful industry, and perhaps overtasked
her powers. With deep anxiety, Viner and his adopted son watched her
pale cheek and drooping form, and the gentle smile which seemed to
belong rather to heaven than to earth.
Viner consulted a doctor for his daughter, who shook his head, said
that she had been overworked and under-fed, and prescribed as necessary
for her recovery nourishing food and rest. Oh! How Walter longed for
riches then—how Viner felt the cross of poverty lies heaviest when
those whom we love are in want!
The father laid his trial before his Lord; he earnestly prayed, with a
child-like faith, for a sufficiency of daily bread! He rose from his
knees submissive and calm; he had placed his sick child at the feet of
his Saviour, and while he determined that no lawful means should be
left untried to increase her comforts, he rested his hopes upon Him who
once said, "According to thy faith be it unto thee."
But to Walter it was more difficult thus to pray and wait, to let
patience have its perfect work. Nor was it want of faith in God's
promises alone that gave bitterness to the spirit of the young man.
One passion that struggled in his breast robbed him entirely of that
inward peace which lightened the burden of Viner. It was with feelings
of mingled resentment and envy that Walter regarded Ned Goldie, the
fruiterer's son. From him, he had received, when he first came to
the village, that insult which still rankled in his mind, an insult
followed by many others; for Ned was reputed a wit in E—, and the
cheapest way of making people merry is by laughing at and ridiculing
others. There was no end of Ned's jests upon the convict's son, which
amused for a moment, and were then forgotten by all but him at whose
expense they were made.
And Ned was in a position to raise some envy amongst those of his own
class in life. Singularly favoured by nature—handsome, intelligent,
full of health and spirits—Ned was a favourite with all. Often would
he drop in to spend a half-hour at Viner's quiet home. Nelly could not
but own that he was a very pleasant companion; his playful words (in
her presence they were never ill-natured) often brought a smile to her
pale face. Viner liked and felt interested in the merry-hearted lad; to
Walter alone his society was as wormwood and gall.
Then it was known that Ned was to succeed to his father's prosperous
business, as his elder brothers were already provided for. Aleck
had risen in the world even beyond his father's hopes. Possessed of
uncommon talents, he now shared his master's business; a bridge that
he had planned had made his name well-known, and he had just formed
a marriage, which had raised him at once to fortune, with the only
daughter of a retired coal merchant. The words of Goldie, spoken ten
years before, had been verified, he had lived to see his son have a
carriage of his own!
Mat had been apprenticed to some business in London. It was noticed in
the town that his parents spoke less frequently of him, that inquiries
after his prospects were answered shortly by his father, and made his
pale, sickly mother look sad. People could not forget his unchecked
habit of gambling, his profane language, his love of bad company: it
was even rumoured that he had got into some scrape in London, but
nothing certain was known upon the subject. This, and Mrs. Goldie's
feeble state of health, seemed, however, the only drawbacks upon the
prosperity of the fruiterer; his increasing stoutness and the ruddiness
of his face told of comfort, good living, and an easy life.
It was at this period, when to win money for Nelly was almost the first
desire of Walter's heart, haunted his dreams by night, was his first
thought on waking, that a thin old gentleman, in a snuff-coloured coat,
that looked a good deal the worse for wear, flourishing in his hand a
little carved stick, passed along the street of E—. He stopped opposite
Goldie's shop, and looked in, as if studying the prices on the fruit,
then turned round and glanced at Viner's humble window, hesitated,
twisted his stick round and round, and then chose the poorest and
cheapest-looking shop.
He was the first visitor who had come that day, and unpromising a
customer as he looked, his entrance was a welcome sight to Walter,
who was serving alone in the shop. The youth's patience, however, was
not a little tried, as, after a half-hour spent in questioning and
bargaining, and trying to beat down the price of what already scarcely
yielded any profit, the old gentleman departed with a bag of nuts,
leaving one fourpenny piece on the counter.
"He must be either terribly poor or terribly stingy," thought Walter.
"His face looked as sharp as the monkey's head carved upon his stick;
that's a man, I'll answer for it, who will never let himself be cheated
out of a farthing!"
Walter busied himself in rearranging the fruit, which he had displaced
to show to his troublesome customer. His mind was full of painful
reflections, and it was not for a little time that he perceived
that the old gentleman had left his pocket-book behind. It was an
old worn-looking article, that might be of the same date as the
snuff-coloured coat; Walter went to the gate to look out for its owner,
but the gentleman was nowhere to be seen.
"Perhaps his name and address may be written inside," thought Walter;
"I had better open it and look."
He unclosed the book, and in the pocket found, indeed, a note directed
to Mr. Sharp, Marine Row; but there was something else that Walter
found in that pocket, something on which he fixed his gaze with a
strange emotion, till his hand trembled and his heart beat fast! It was
a bank-note for £50 wrapped round some money! The pocket-book almost
fell from the grasp of the youth, a thought of Nelly and her poverty
flashed across his mind; here were riches before him, dare he touch
them!
When the convict's son first came beneath Viner's roof, he would not
have hesitated to grasp the fortune placed within his reach, the strong
temptation would at once have mastered conscience! Walter would have
rushed on the fatal career of the thief! But the Spirit of God had
touched his heart; weak, imperfect as his religion might be, at least
it was sincere and true. Walter dared not be guilty of the fatal error
of presuming on God's mercy by committing wilful sin; he dared not
hazard his immortal soul for gold! Hastily, he thrust the book into his
bosom, colouring with shame, all alone as he was, at having harboured
for one moment the thought of theft. He unclosed the little door which
led to the parlour, asked Nelly to supply his place at the counter,
then, without venturing one look at her thin, pale face, lest the sight
of it should shake his resolution, he took down his hat from a peg in
the wall, and hastened towards the lodging of the owner of the note.
"And is it possible that one who for the last ten years has lived,
as it were, under the wing of piety, could have felt—almost acted as
a thief!" thought Walter, as he walked on with rapid strides, more
pained at having meditated a crime, than he once would have been to
have committed it. "And I have blushed for my unhappy father, have
been ashamed at bearing his name, have presumed to think that in his
place my conduct would have been better, have almost dared to condemn
him in my secret soul! Had he had the advantages with which I have
been blessed, who can say that I might not have looked up to him now
as my guide and example through life! Oh! May God forgive me, forgive
my pride and hardness of heart, my foolish reliance on my own feeble
strength, my cold forgetfulness of my unhappy parent! And have mercy
upon him, O gracious Lord! Watch over him, save him, lead him back to
Thyself, and grant that I may meet him, if not here below, yet in the
kingdom of our Father in heaven!"
The lodging of the old gentleman was at no great distance; it looked
small, uncomfortable, and mean. A slip-shop, untidy girl answered
Walter's ring, and was desired by him to tell her master that some one
wished to speak with him upon business. While she shuffled up the steep
staircase, Walter's eye rested, at first unconsciously, upon the little
curved stick which Mr. Sharp had carried, and which was now placed upon
nails in the hall.
"I think that I might cut out something like that," he said to himself,
"I shall have plenty of time in the long winter evenings; I wonder if
an assortment of things carved in wood would be likely to sell well in
the season." The idea pleased him; there seemed to be an opening for
hope; he might yet, by the work of his hands, be enabled to gain some
comforts for Nelly!
From the top of the narrow staircase, the servant-girl called to him to
step up. Walter obeyed; and in a small, ill-lighted room, where dust
lay thick on the table, and darkened the panes, and the window-curtain
looked as though it had never been white, Walter found the
sharp-featured old man. His look was restless and uneasy, an expression
of mingled hope, fear, and suspicion was in his eye, as he recognised
the face of Walter Binning. That expression changed to one of childish
delight as the youth drew from his breast the well-known pocket-book;
the old man snatched it with feverish impatience from his hand, opened
it with fingers that trembled from eagerness, and not till he had
examined and re-examined its contents, looked at the note on this side
and that, and counted the money again and again, did he appear to have
a thought to give to him whose honesty had restored it.
"It's all right—quite right," he muttered at last, "two sovereigns, a
half-crown—four and six. You have behaved very well, young man, very
well; will you accept—" the miser hesitated, fumbled with money, seemed
to find difficulty in making up his mind, and then, as if quite with an
effort, held out a sixpence to Walter!
The convict's son stepped back, a half-smile on his face, and, bowing
to the miserable old man, left the room with this reflection, "It is
better to want money than the heart to spend it."
And had Walter known more of Mr. Sharp, he would have been but
strengthened in this opinion.
The miser had begun life without a shilling, but possessed with one
strong desire to grow rich. He hoarded his small earnings till they
became great, not from an honest wish to be independent in old age,
but from that love of money for its own sake which the Bible tells us
is the root of all evil. And now he had his desire—he was rich, he had
money, he possessed, but he did not enjoy it! Life was to him like the
feast given by a queen of ancient time, where not only the dishes,
but all their contents, were of gold, and the wondering guests rose
unsatisfied and hungry from their magnificent repast!
Mr. Sharp almost grudged himself his necessary food; he could never
ask a blessing on his daily bread; his very soul seemed buried in his
heaps of treasure. And now he was drawing near to his grave, and that
treasure must be left behind! No one loved him, no one would mourn for
his loss; he knew but too well that his money would be far more prized
than ever he himself had been. God had dealt with him as with the
Israelites of old—He gave them their desire, but sent leanness withal
into their soul; and the man who possessed wealth without a blessing
was poor and miserable indeed!
So Walter gave back the pocket-book and its rich contents, and gained
nothing at all by his honesty?
Do you call it nothing to tread earth with a free, fearless step, to
dread looking no man in the face? Do you call it nothing to have a
character unstained, to hear the voice of an approving conscience, and
to be able to ask in prayer for those blessings which we have taken no
guilty means to obtain?
The thoughts of Walter were full of new plans of industry, while he
more slowly returned to his home. As he approached the little gate
of Viner's shop, some one came out of it into the street, bidding a
cheerful good-bye to those within. It was with a feeling of annoyance
that Walter saw the only being on earth whom he really disliked—Ned
Goldie, the fruiterer's son.
The youth nodded to him as they met, with a sort of free-and-easy,
patronising air, which was intolerable to Walter Binning.
"I am glad to find Nelly so much better to-day," said Ned.
"She does not look better to my eyes," replied Walter gloomily. "She
seems daily weaker, and it is my conviction—"
"Your conviction!" exclaimed Ned, with a loud burst of mirth. "Oh!
I did not know that things had come to that pass! I was aware that
Viner had kept you ten years on your trial, but never heard of your
conviction till now!"
"Insolent boy!" cried Walter, clenching his hand, his blood mounting to
his temples, his eye flashing fire! Ned might have had reason to repent
his idle jest, had not Viner, who had overheard the words that passed,
laid his hand firmly upon the arm of Walter, and drawn him away within
the gate.
"Would you be the slave to your passions?" he said in a low voice, "And
show the world that a Christian can neither bear nor forbear."
"I could forgive neglect," muttered Walter, "could forgive wrongs; but
this contempt, this scorn, this ridicule! I wonder," he exclaimed,
almost indignantly, "that you, who value only wisdom and virtue, can
endure this trifling, silly, conceited—"
"Yet generous-hearted boy," said Viner, pointing to a fine hare that
lay upon the counter. "He has kind thought for others with all his
faults, he know that nourishment was ordered for my Nelly."
Walter started, and felt angry with himself that the sight of food so
much needed should give him an emotion of pain rather than of pleasure.
But to Viner, who, even in the smaller events of life, recognised the
hand of an overruling Providence, the timely gift from the kindness of
an earthly friend seemed an answer sent to his earnest prayer:
"GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD!"
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