A BATCH OF LETTERS.
"How many lives made beautiful and sweet
By self-devotion and by self-restraint!"
THAT which they said of Perry Morse was true. He had been brought home
dead drunk; he had neglected his business and taken his employer's
money to pay his gambling debts, and he was only seventeen! The
reproaches which his father had heaped upon him had roused a spirit of
defiance and stubbornness; yet he was not altogether hardened, as was
shown by the tears he shed over a note he received the next morning. It
ran thus:
"DEAR PERRY:—Could you come and see me a little while this afternoon? I
would like to have a little quiet talk and consultation upon a matter
of interest to you, and think that we may have a better chance to be
alone here. Shall we say at three o'clock?
"Your friend,
"MABEL MCNAIR."
But Perry found himself unable to accept this invitation. The course
he had been pursuing had undermined his health, and the excitement and
shame of the last day or two had quite used up his strength. He lay
upon the lounge, with throbbing head and fever pulse. By the following
morning, Mrs. Morse was thoroughly alarmed, and would have a physician.
Mr. Morse said, "Very well. If you are anxious, I'll send up Dr.
Maxwell."
"I don't want Dr. Maxwell," said Perry, overhearing the remark. "I'll
have Dr. Myers, if anybody. Dr. Max. is fussy."
"Well, you won't have Dr. Myers, I can assure you," replied Mr. Morse.
"Dr. Maxwell is our family physician," said Mrs. Morse soothingly. "It
would not be treating him well to call any one else."
"I don't know why," said Perry. "If I like Dr. Myers better, I should
think I might have him."
"The things you like don't always happen to be the best," replied Mr.
Morse significantly, as he closed the door after him.
An hour after this, Dr. Maxwell made his visit. He found his patient
sullen and silent. Surprised, he turned to the mother for an
explanation.
Embarrassed and pained, Mrs. Morse said hesitatingly, "The truth is,
Perry took a freak into his head to want Dr. Myers, and I have not been
able to reason it out of him."
"Of course not," returned the kindly old doctor. "He is not in a state
to be reasoned with. Why in the world wasn't Dr. Myers called?"
"Why, you know you are our family physician, and Mr. Morse did not
think it would be right to employ any one else," replied Mrs. Morse,
conscious that she was telling only half the truth.
"Fudge! That's being over particular. I'm too old a man to be jealous
or troubled by any such thing. I'll send Dr. Myers up myself," said the
doctor, rising to go.
"Oh, no, don't do that; at least, not until you have seen Mr.
Morse—I—he—well, I think my husband does not quite approve Dr. Myers."
"Well, I do, but I'll see Morse. Good morning."
Mr. Morse was surprised and a little alarmed when Dr. Maxwell entered
his store that morning.
"See here, Morse," began the visitor, "you made a mistake. I wasn't
wanted up at your house."
"Just as I thought," returned Mr. Morse, "but my wife is nervous and
easily alarmed, and I called you to pacify her."
"Not that, not that," said the doctor quickly. "There's need enough of
a physician's service, but I am not the one to help the boy. It seems
he wants Dr. Myers, and he is the man to go to. I was going to send him
up myself, but your wife thought I'd better see you first."
"I do not employ Dr. Myers," said Mr. Morse, with emphasis. "I have
confidence in your skill and am satisfied to trust him with you."
"Thank you, but it won't do. The boy is in no state to be reasoned with
or crossed; he wants Dr. Myers, and Dr. Myers he must have."
"But I tell you I won't have him."
"Not when I assure you that I consider him a perfectly reliable
physician, and that I would trust my own son with him?"
"Not even upon that assurance."
The good old man was puzzled and troubled, too. After a brief silence,
he said slowly—
"Mr. Morse, I do not understand you. You and Dr. Myers are members
of the same church, and yet you seem to hold bitterness toward him.
I do not understand that. Further than this, you will let your son
die, perhaps, for lack of the help which the man you dislike can give,
because you happen to dislike him. I do not understand that. I did not
prescribe for your son, and I shall not. It is of no use. He must be
soothed and quieted. My visit was an injury to him. But of course you
must do as you think proper. Good morning."
Turning back from the door, Dr. Maxwell added, "If it would be a
satisfaction to you, I will agree to call often enough to watch the
progress the disease is making, and will counsel with the doctor. But
something must be done at once."
Though Mr. Morse was becoming alarmed by the doctor's earnestness, he
retained his almost surly manner as he replied, "Well, I have placed
him in your care. If you prescribe a heavy dose of Dr. Myers, I suppose
we shall have to submit, however unpleasant."
Dr. Maxwell found his friend just returned from his morning round of
calls, and he was soon sitting beside the sick boy, holding his burning
hand in his own cool one, while he spoke gentle soothing words.
For a few days fever and delirium raged, then came a slow
convalescence. Dr. Myers came often, and sat long beside his patient
trying to cheer him and drive away a gloom that hung over him. Perry
rarely smiled; his mood seemed between sullenness and despair. One day
the doctor said—
"Perry, my boy, you don't gain as fast as I wish you did. You must try
to cheer up; it is low spirits that keeps you back."
"There is always something keeping me back," returned Perry.
"Supposing you were to break loose and take a fresh start. Which is it?
Are you brooding over the past, or dreading the future?"
"Both."
"Well, you can't undo the past, but you know how it can be wiped out."
Perry looked up inquiringly.
"The blood of Christ," said the doctor softly.
Perry shook his head.
"True, some of the consequences of sin must follow you, but your future
will be very much what you make it."
"No, it won't. It will be just what father makes it," said Perry
bitterly.
"Outwardly, perhaps so; but that need not affect the real, the inner
life. True living is of the soul, and, Perry, if you would cease to
work against Christ, and begin working with and for Him, then you would
begin to live. Don't waste these hours of quiet in useless regrets and
miserable forebodings, but go to Jesus with all your burden of sin,
take the pardon that awaits you, and leave the future with Him. Can't
you do this?"
Perry again shook his head. "I don't mind telling you," he said, "that
I am sorry for the past, and I would like to be different, but it is of
no use to try; they won't give me a chance."
This is only a bit of that talk. To all Dr. Myers's arguments and
entreaties, Perry continued to respond, "It is no use to try." Yet
it seems not to have been altogether in vain. Some faint glimmer of
hope must have reached the boy's heart, for he grew more cheerful, and
gained strength correspondingly, and in the course of a week was able
to come down-stairs.
Lying upon the lounge in the sitting room, while the family were at
dinner, he overheard a fragment of conversation which sent the blood
capering through his veins, and set heart and head to throbbing
violently. Mr. Morse was saying, "I suppose I had better write to John.
He will be waiting for an answer. Probably Perry will not be able to go
for a month yet."
"I should think not sooner, perhaps not then," replied his wife. "But
hadn't you better wait a little before you make any decisive answer? I
do not think Perry will be willing to go."
"Can't help it. Of course, I have his welfare in mind, and I think it
is the best thing to do. He is ruined for Westville, and a stranger
would not take a boy without recommendations. As for not liking it, he
will get over that after he is once fairly at work."
Forgetting how weak he was, the unhappy boy started to go to the dining
room to enter an indignant protest, but sank upon the threshold limp
and white. Then there was consternation, running for restoratives,
a swift messenger for the doctor, and it must be confessed upon Mr.
Morse's part an uncomfortable feeling that he was to blame for what
might prove a serious relapse. And so it turned out. At the end
of a month, instead of going to work in Uncle John's tannery, the
invalid, muffled in shawls and tippets, was taken out in the doctor's
carriage for an airing, and when another four weeks had passed, he was
pronounced fit for work.
Meantime this bit of correspondence had been going on:—
"NELSON, Dec. 10.
"MY DEAR BROTHER:—Harvey is about leaving me to go West. Can you send
me a good clerk to fill his place, or one to grow into it, not a fresh
hand, but one with some knowledge of the business. You know what
Harvey's position has been. For the present, I shall take more care and
work upon myself, but I want to get some one who can be trusted as I
have trusted him. If you can find an honest fellow, let me know at once.
"Yours as ever,
"DAVID MCNAIR."
"WESTVILLE, December 12.
"DEAR BROTHER DAVID:—I have in mind a clerk for you, and fine
accountant, a good salesman, but not otherwise up to your requirements.
"David, good boys can get places any day, but one who has been
discharged for dishonesty is in a bad fix. And the worst is, there are
so few who are willing to give such a boy a chance to redeem himself.
This boy is a mate of Duncan's, and was a member of my wife's class
in Sunday-school, and I am much interested in him. I have offered him
a place in my office, but his inclinations are still for a mercantile
life.
"Now, can you find it in your heart to do your Master a service by
giving this young fellow an opportunity to begin life anew? I hope you
will consider it, I need not add prayerfully, knowing as I do your
habit. There is no immediate hurry. He has been ill and is just getting
about. Let me hear at the end of a week. And may Christ through his
Spirit guide you to decision in accordance with his will.
"Your brother,
"ROBERT MCNAIR."
"NELSON, Dec. 20.
"BROTHER ROBERT:—I think my duty has been made plain to me. The Lord
has so prospered me that I have no need to be anxious about money
affairs, so that I have more time to give thought to this work; and
just at present, I find here nothing especial to put my hand to (mind,
I say nothing especial—there is always the ordinary, every-day work for
Christ); so it seems to me that perhaps I may be his chosen instrument
to help the boy you speak of, by bearing with his faults, correcting
his mistakes, and strengthening his good purposes.
"Harvey has decided to remain until spring. If your young friend
comes, he will board with us and room with Harvey. As to salary . . .
if he should remain with me and fill Harvey's place, of course the pay
would be the same that he receives. If this is satisfactory, he may come
as soon as he is able.
"Yours, &c.,
"DAVID."
It was Dr. Maxwell who undertook to set this proposition before Mr.
Morse. That gentleman's opposition was at first very decided. He had
made the proposal which his brother had accepted, and he would much
prefer not to retract anything. However, Perry was so averse to the
idea, he was willing to promise him a release at the end of a specified
time, if he should not become reconciled to it. The truth was, his
brother was wealthy, and had offered to do well by his nephew. Perry
would be a rich man in a few years, and it was all nonsense this being
afraid of a little dirt.
"It is a good deal of dirt instead of a little," laughed the doctor.
"Of course that sort of work has to be done, but you must remember that
you have always encouraged Perry's fastidiousness, and love of neatness
and pleasant surroundings has become a part of his very nature, so
that if you insist upon forcing him into such uncongenial work, I
really believe it will have a bad influence upon his mental and moral
character. Now he has a chance to retrieve the past, and seems ready to
make the attempt. I beg of you don't put a straw in his way."
Now Mr. Morse's word had always been decisive in his family. When he
said a thing was to be, or not to be, that ended discussion, and he
hated to give in. Finally Dr. Maxwell said, "See here, Morse, that boy
is not pronounced convalescent yet, and I believe he is under my care.
I recommend the air of Nelson. Don't you dare to disobey your family
physician!"
"I suppose you'll have your way," said Mr. Morse, laughing a little,
and really glad to have the mutter settled. He had been very angry
with Perry, and in wrath had fallen upon this plan of punishment, and
afterward it had seemed a good thing in a money point of view; so you
see he had several reasons for holding on to his idea.
Before his departure, Perry went to bid the McNairs good-bye. This
was the first opportunity for that quiet talk which his friend had
suggested in her note so many weeks previous, and now they had but a
few moments together, and the subject was altogether different from
that which she had in mind then.
"Perry," she said, "when you were too ill to know any of us, I stood
beside you with a very sad heart. It seemed to me that I must have
sadly failed in trying to show you the way to Christ, and I promised
God then, that if he would spare you, I would never give up until you
came to Christ. Remember always that I am praying for you, that the
burden is ever upon me. I know you are going away armed with many good
resolutions, but I do not feel that you are safe so long as you trust
in yourself."
In the course of a few months, Mr. Morse received from his son fifty
dollars to repay Mr. Wynn's loss.
"I have never," he wrote, "used money more to my satisfaction than
I do in repaying this. It is a great relief to be able to make
retribution. Now I wish I could forget all about that miserable
business, but I don't suppose I ever shall. I am perfectly contented
here. Mr. McNair expresses himself as very well satisfied with my work,
and I think he has considerable confidence in me. I have often wondered
if he knew of my reputation. I hardly think he did—at least he has never
made the slightest reference to it. You can tell mother that this is a
no-license town, and there is not a liquor-saloon within five miles of
here."
About this time he wrote to Dr. Myers:—
"MY DEAR FRIEND:—I received your letter the other day. Yes, I am
contented here. Harvey went away two months ago. He is a splendid
fellow. I can't help thinking that he ought to have been a minister.
I said so once, and he replied that Christian merchants were needed.
I can tell you, business is done here on Christian principle. I'd
just like to tell Mr. Wynn that a man can do a thriving business and
be perfectly true and fair. There are three clerks of us, and I don't
know what Mr. McNair would say if one of us should sell an article
for what it is not, or recommend a thing one bit higher than it will
bear. I believe that man loves the truth as he does his own life. The
least little bit of a lie would be terrible to him. Mrs. McNair and
Emily are very pleasant. Emily is twelve years old. We are reading
German together. Her father said I might find it useful, as the German
population is very large about here.
"In answer to your question, Am I following Christ? I have to say,
not as you mean. I am different from what I was in Westville. I feel
that I am changed in many ways. I do not think that I could be induced
to taste a bit of liquor, or touch a card, or take a penny that did not
belong to me. I do not shun religious people and religious services as
I did once. When Harvey was here, I always joined him in reading and
prayer, but I know that I am not a Christian. I almost wish I were.
But you remember I told you once there was always something to hold
me back. I can't tell just what it is now; only I think that if I did
start, and then did not follow any closer than some Christians I know,
I should not be better off than I am now. I don't want to say anything
hard of any one, but I will tell you that I was almost a Christian
once, and was turned back by those who profess to be living for Christ.
I thought I could do as well as they could any day without being a
Christian, and I think so still.
"Now there is Dr. Maxwell. He is not a church member, but how kind
and patient he was when I abused him. He took my part all the way
through, and I know well enough that I shouldn't be here to-day if it
had not been for him. He couldn't be better if he belonged to forty
churches. I am much obliged to you for writing to me. I wonder why you
were always so kind to us boys?"
"Your friend,
"PERRY MORSE."
It was perhaps a year later that Perry's employer wrote to his brother
a letter, from which I copy a sentence or two.
"We have had a precious work of grace in our midst. Of my Bible class
of twenty young men, all but two are now professing Christians. One of
these two is your young friend, Perry Morse. He seems to linger just
on the threshold. He has been attentive and interested, but will not
come in. I am pleased with him in a business way. He is honourable and
upright. It seems sad that he will imperil his soul by this strange
halting."
Not yet was the burden lifted from the heart of the praying teacher.