BENJAMIN AND BENJAMIN.
AN old man sat by an open fire in a strange-looking room with a little
boy on his knee. Beside him was a middle-aged man, the father of the
boy.
"Brother Josiah," said the old man, "I have had a hard, disappointed
life, but I have done the best that I could, and there has nothing
happened since my own children died and my hair turned gray that has
made me so happy as that letter that you sent to me in England in which
you told me that you had named this boy for me."
"It makes me happy to see you here by my fire to-night, with the boy in
your lap," said the father. "Benjamin and Benjamin! My heart has been
true to you in all your troubles and losses, and I would have helped you
had I been able. How did you get up the resolution to cross the sea in
your old age?"
"Brother Josiah, it was because my own son is here, and he was all that
I had left of my own family. But that was not all. In one sense my own
life has failed; I have come down to old age with empty hands. When your
letter came saying that you had named this boy for me, and had made me
his godfather, I saw that you pitied me, and that you had a place for
me in your heart. I thought of all the years that we had passed together
when we were young; of the farm and forge in Ecton; of Banbury; of the
chimes of Nottingham; of all that we were to each other then.
"I was all alone in London, and there my heart turned to you as it did
when we were boys. That gave me resolution to cross the sea, Brother
Josiah, although my hair is white and my veins are thin.
"But that was not all, brother; he is a poor man indeed who gives up
hope. When a man loses hope for himself, he wishes to live in another.
The ancients used to pray that their sons might be nobler than
themselves. When I read your letter that said that you had named this
boy for me and had made me his godfather, you can not tell how life
revived in me--it was like seeing a rainbow after a storm. I said to
myself that I had another hope in this world; that I would live in the
boy. I have come over to America to live in this boy.
"O brother, I never thought that I would see an hour like this! I am
poor, but I am happy. I am happy because you loved me after I became
poor and friendless. That was your opportunity to show what your heart
was. I am happy because you trusted me and gave my name to this boy.
"Brother Josiah, I have come over to America to return your love, in
teaching this boy how to live and how to fulfill the best that is in
him. A boy with your heart can succeed in life, even if he have but
common gifts. The best thing that can be said of any man is that he is
true-hearted. Brother, you have been true-hearted to me, and the boy
inherits your nature, and I am going to be true-hearted to him and to
do all I can to make his life a blessing to you and the world. We do no
self-sacrificing thing without fruit."
The old man put his arm about the boy, and said:
"Ben, little Ben, I loved you before I saw you, and I love you more than
ever now. I have come across the ocean in my old age to be with you. I
want you to like me, Ben."
"I do, uncle," said little Ben. "I would rather be with you than with
any one. I am glad that you have come."
"That makes me happy, that makes my old heart happy. I did everything a
man could do for his wife and children and for everybody. I was left
alone in London, poor; I seemed to be a forsaken man, but this makes up
for all."
"Benjamin and Benjamin!" said the younger brother, touching the strings
of the violin that he held on his lap--"Benjamin and Benjamin! Brother
Benjamin, how did you get the money to cross the ocean?"
"I sold my goods and my pamphlets. _They_ were my life; I had put my
life into them. But I sold them, for what were they if I could have the
chance to live another life in little Ben?"
"What were your pamphlets?" asked little Ben.
"They were my life, and I sold them for you, that I might make your life
a blessing to your father, who has been a true brother to me. I will
tell you the whole story of the pamphlets some day."
"Uncle, I love you more than ever before, because you sold the treasures
for me. I wish that I might grow up and help folks, so that my name
might honor yours.
"You can make it that, my boy. If you will let me teach you, you may
make it that. There can nothing stand before a will that wills to do
good. It is the heart that has power, my boy. My life will not have been
lost if I can live in you."
"I have not much time for educating my children," said the younger
brother. "I am going to give over the training of the boy to you. True
education begins with the heart first, so as to make right ideas fixed
in the mind and right habits, in the conduct. It may be little that I
can send him to school, but it is what you can do for him that will give
him a start in life. I want you to see that he starts right in life. I
leave his training to you. I have a dozen mouths to feed, and small time
for anything but toil."
He tuned his violin and played an old English air. There were candle
molds in the room, long rows of candle wicks, great kettles, a gun, a
Bible, some old books, and a fireplace with a great crane, hooks, and
andirons.
Little Benjamin looked up into the old man's face and laid his hand on
his shoulder.
"I am glad father did not forget you," said he.
The old man's lip quivered.
"He has been a true brother to me. Always remember that, boy, as long as
you live. It is such memories as that that teach. His heart is true to
me now as when we used to leave the forge and roam the woods of Banbury
together in springtime, when the skylark rose out of the meadows and the
hedgerows bloomed. It is good for families to be so true to each other.
If one member of a family lacks anything, it is good for another to
make up for it. Yes, boy, your father has a good heart, else you would
not now be in my arms."
"Why do you cry, papa?" said the boy, for his father's eyes were filled
with tears which coursed down his cheeks. Something that aged Benjamin
had said about the forge, the nightingale, or the thorn had touched his
heart.
"We can never be young again, brother," said Josiah Franklin. "I shall
never see the thorn bloom or hear the nightingale sing as I once did.
No, no, no; but I am glad that I have brought you and Ben together. That
would have pleased our old mother's heart, long dead and gone to the
violets and primroses. Do you suppose the dead know? I sometimes think
they do, and that it makes them happy to see things like these. I will
talk with the parson about these things some day."
The younger brother smiled through his tears and straightened himself
up, as though he felt that he had yielded to weakness, for he was a
plain, hard-working man. Suddenly he said:
"Brother, you remember Uncle Tom?"
"Yes, yes; he set the chimes of Nottingham ringing in the air. I can
hear them ringing now in my memory. Brother, I think little Ben favors
Uncle Tom."
"Who was Uncle Tom?" asked the boy.
"They used to say that he was a wizard. I will tell you all about him
some day. Let us listen now to your father's violin."
The house was still, save that the sea winds stirred the crisp autumn
leaves in the great trees near and the nine o'clock bell fell solemnly
on the air. A watchman went by, saying, "All is well!"
Yes, all is well in hearts like these--hearts that can pity, love,
forbear, and feel.