[Illustration]
“Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many
days.”
Many years ago there lived in Boston a carpenter whose name was John
Lowe. He was very far from being a rich man, and, though he received
fair wages for his labor, he had a wife and four children to support.
One Saturday evening, as he was going down to the market, a little boy
of about ten years of age stepped up to him, and asked if he would set
him up in the newspaper business.
The newsboys, in the large cities of the United States, make from
four to six cents a dozen on the papers they sell; but they have to
be active, and I am sure they earn their money. It requires a little
capital to start with; and to obtain this, the boy had accosted John
Lowe.
“How much do you want, my boy?” asked he.
“Fifty cents, sir, if you please,” replied the boy, whose name was
Henry Small. “But I will pay it to you again, just as soon as ever I
can.”
The carpenter hesitated; but the boy looked honest, and told him a
pitiful story of misfortune and want at home; and he finally gave him
the money.
In two weeks, Henry Small called at the carpenter’s house, and paid the
half dollar he had borrowed. It was sixteen years before he saw him
again.
In that time John Lowe had grown old and feeble. He could not labor
much, and when hard times came he had no work, and had nothing with
which to buy bread for himself and his wife.
Two of his children had died, and the other two were sailors, and far
away from home. He had no one to help him, and he feared that he should
be obliged to go to the almshouse.
Every day he went out, hoping to find a job by which he could earn
enough to buy food for himself and his wife; but he was disappointed.
At last he made up his mind to apply to the overseers of the poor for
assistance, for he had not even a loaf of bread in the house, or any
money.
On his way to the City Hall, he entered a store where some carpenters
were at work making alterations, and asked the master workman for a
job.
“I can give you no work here,” was the rough reply.
The unkindness of the answer touched his feelings, and a tear slid down
his cheek.
“What do you want?” asked a gentleman, in kind tones.
He was the person who was about to go into business in the store.
“I want work, sir, for I am very poor,” replied John Lowe.
“Haven’t I seen you before, somewhere?” asked the gentleman. “I am
sure I have.”
“I don’t know, sir. My name is John Lowe; I am a carpenter by trade.”
“John Lowe!” exclaimed the gentleman, grasping his hand. “Don’t you
know me?”
“I do not, indeed, sir.”
“My name is Henry Small. You set me up in the newspaper business
sixteen years ago.”
“I do remember; and I judge by your looks that the world has used you
better than it has me.”
“It has used me very well--perhaps better than I deserve.”
John Lowe then told his story, with many tears.
“Do not weep,” said Henry Small. “I have done well since we parted
sixteen years ago. The half dollar you lent me has been the foundation
of my fortune. I have some thousands of dollars now; but had I only a
dollar I would divide it with you.”
John Lowe had all he wanted as long as he lived. He worked on good
wages in Mr. Small’s store for a time; but when he could no longer
work, he was well cared for by his friend.