THE EVENING SCHOOL.
"YOU have never been here before, I think?" said Mr. Aylmer. He had
a pleasant voice, and, curious to say, it sounded familiar to Roger,
though he was sure he had never seen Mr. Aylmer before.
"No, sir; I never heard of it before."
"A stranger here, I suppose?"
"Not exactly, sir."
"Tell me your name, that is, if you wish to attend here regularly. I
keep school here for two hours every evening except Saturday."
"Oh, I should like that well! What do they teach here, sir?"
"They, means me," said Mr. Aylmer, laughing. "I have no help as yet.
I teach whatever my lads want to know, and some of them have had more
education than others. What do you wish to learn?"
"To understand the Bible and to keep accounts," replied Roger, with all
the promptitude of one whose mind is made up.
Mr. Aylmer looked curiously at him.
"Tell me your name," said he, "and your age."
"Roger Read, sir; and I'm going on seventeen."
"And your employment? Are you in any of the shops here?"
"No; at least, yes. I keep a shop. I'm a fishmonger," answered Roger
with some pride.
Mr. Aylmer at first thought that this was meant as a joke, and was not
sure that he liked it. But Roger looked so quiet and grave that he gave
up that suspicion, and said gravely,—
"Were you born a fishmonger?"
"Why, no, sir!" Roger said, laughing. "What do you mean?"
"You are so young to be in trade on your own account, that I want to
know if it really is so, and how it came about."
"I have a shop in Cecil Street, and there's no one but myself. But I
was born down in Devonshire, and my grandfather, Nicholas Read, was
gamekeeper at Sir Carew Shafton's place near Bideford town."
Mr. Aylmer looked again at him, and said, "What was the Vicar's name?"
"The Reverend George Aylmer, sir."
"And I am his son, and you are the boy about whom Sir Carew was so
unhappy, because, when your poor father's death became known to him,
he could not find you. One of my brothers, who is in London, is on the
look-out for you still, for all I know. I thought there was a touch of
old Devon in your voice. Why did you not write to Sir Carew?"
Roger opened his eyes wide.
"Why, sir, he told me, if I went to my father, he would never have
anything to say to me again! And I thought he meant it too. But I've
done very well without his help."
"Ah, well! He'll be glad to know that," said Mr. Aylmer drily. "Now I
must waste no more time, but when school is over, I must have a talk
with you. Do you know anything of arithmetic? I'll set you to work at
once."
"And to think you're one of the Vicarage young gentlemen!"' said Roger.
"Master George, I'm sure; Master Fred was not so tall."
"Master George it is. Here's a slate and here's a book. Look over the
book, and I'll come presently and see how much you know."
"I could tell him that now," thought Roger. "'Nothing' is easy said.
I'll just begin at the beginning and learn it right off."
Mr. Aylmer soon found that he had a good pupil in Roger Read—good in
a way. Roger spared no pains to learn what he wanted to know; but
anything of which he did not see the practical use, he would not learn
at all.
History! Of what use would history be to him? Mr. Aylmer said nothing
for a long time: all that winter Roger worked away at arithmetic,
book-keeping, writing, and his Bible. Before summer came, he could
write a fair business hand, was a tolerable accountant, and could write
without errors in spelling. His business was thriving, his time was
fully occupied, and he was very happy.
No one would ever take Jack Sparling's place in his affections; but he
was beginning to regard Mr. Aylmer as a friend, and to love him; and
something to love was a great blessing to poor lonely Roger—greater
than he knew it to be.
May was a week old, and one Saturday afternoon, Roger was putting up
his shutters when some one touched him on the shoulder.
"Oh, Mr. Aylmer! Is that you?"
"It is; and I have come to talk to you. Shall I go down with you to
your kitchen, or will you come out for a walk?"
"Whichever you like, sir. If you're not tired, it is pleasanter out
than in my kitchen."
"Very good; follow me up to the station. I have a message to leave
there."
Roger hastened to finish his work; and having made himself very neat
and scrubbed his face and hands until they were crimson, he took his
cap and set out for the station. Very soon he and Mr. Aylmer were going
along a country road at a great pace.
"There's a wood out here," said Mr. Aylmer, "where I expect to get some
primroses. Roger, I think you used to play cricket down in Devonshire?"
"Oh, yes, sir; you see, I had so little to do."
"Well, I'm going to set up a cricket club here, and I count on you as
one of my best members. There'll be a yearly subscription, but it will
be small. Mr. Dunlop has given us the use of a very nice field. It is
easier to find a good flat field here than at home, Roger."
"Well, yes, sir. But don't count on me, Mr. Aylmer, I couldn't spare
the time."
"Roger, when I urged you last week to join my English History class,
you said the same thing."
"It is quite true, sir. I've got on wonderful, I know; but I have my
rent to make up, and I have to put by for the furniture of the two
rooms upstairs, and I have to live. And all that won't be done by
pleasuring."
"Do you know what the boys call you, Roger?"
"Old Hard-as-nails," said Roger, laughing.
"And you're a little proud of the name? So I see. And they complain
that you won't make friends with any of them, but keep altogether to
yourself, and work morning, noon, and night."
"So I do, and so I ought! Do you remember my father, sir? He was the
cleverest man I ever knew, and yet for want of sticking to his work,
see how things went with him. I don't mean to end as he did."
"Very good. But if my dear old father, instead of being a hearty
and a temperate old gentleman, bless him! had died, let us say, of
over-eating himself, would you advise me to try to live without eating
at all?"
"That's not at all the same thing," said Roger.
"I am not so sure of that. Most people divide a man into body, soul,
and spirit; but, for my own convenience just now, I divide him into
soul, brains, and heart, his body being the house in which these live.
And if he doesn't take care of the house, the lodgers suffer for it.
Now you, Roger, are neglecting the house, and taking care of only one
of the lodgers."
"Which, sir?" said Roger, laughing.
"Your soul; yes, I am sure you are at heart a Christian; and that being
the case, I expect you to listen to me when I give you a lecture, which
I am going to do forthwith. Here's a very convenient wall, and we'll
sit down and have it out. Let me see, how did I mean to begin? Oh, what
was Mr. Dunlop's text last Sunday, Roger?"
Roger looked a little surprised and puzzled, but replied,—
"'Seek the peace of the city whither I have caused you to be carried
away captives, and pray unto the Lord for it; for in the peace thereof
shall ye have peace.'"
"Yes. Well, what did he say?"
"He spoke a good deal of the Prophet Jeremiah, and what a sad life he
had; and so he had, poor man, though I never thought of it before. Then
he told us who the people were who were to seek the peace of the city:
what's this he called it?"
"Babylon."
"Yes—and then he said, that if the Jews, being no better than slaves
and captives, were to seek the peace of that city, how much more should
men seek the peace of England, their own native country, where all have
rights and privileges and all are free! And he gave a lot of texts,
more than I could remember afterwards, but I know he said that the Lord
Himself loved His native country, for He wept over Jerusalem."
"Yes. Now, to whom do you suppose Mr. Dunlop was speaking?"
"He said, to all men. But when he began to talk about votes, I didn't
understand him."
"Because of your ignorance, Roger. You know nothing about the past of
your native land, nor even what is going on at this present time. But
you know what a vote is, don't you?"
"I believe I do, sir. As to all that about my native land, I don't see
what business I have with it."
"Well, Mr. Dunlop said that the time is coming when every man, or
nearly every man, in England will have a vote. And he said that if
people used that power well and conscientiously, it would be seeking
the peace of the country. Now, you are sure to be a rich man, Roger;
one of these days, you'll have a vote. If you knew something of the
history of your country, you'd be in a position to use that vote
intelligently and to help others to do the same. If you don't, you'll
just be taken in by fine words and false promises, and you'll follow
with others like a flock of sheep. Therefore I say that, whether you
feel the want of it or not, you are bound as a Christian man to—join my
English History class."
Roger laughed.
"I knew that was coming!" said he.
"That's one reason. Another is for your own sake. You have plenty of
brains, but you are trying to starve them. You want to learn only what
you can turn to immediate use and profit. Now that you have learned all
the arithmetic you want, what are you going to do in the long evenings?
If you'll learn other things, you'll soon get a taste for reading,
and I can lend you books. If you don't care for reading—well, indeed,
Roger, I don't like to think what may be the end of those long, lonely,
stupid evenings."
"That's true," Roger admitted. "Before I began to go to the classes, I
was almost mad with the long time, and nothing to do."
"I know it. And by degrees, either you must give in and find something
to do, or it will be found for you. You know the old hymn,—
"'Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'
"And if I had written that hymn, I should have added, 'Also for idle
brains.'"
"Well, Mr. Aylmer, I'll come!" said Roger, laughing again. "I won't
keep my brains idle."
"Or feed them with only one kind of food, of which of course they would
get very tired. And a tired brain, weary with harping on one idea, is
no joke. That is what fills our mad-houses, the doctors say. So much
for your brain.
"Now for the third lodger. Why don't you make friends with some of my
lads? There are a few that I can understand not liking; though, mind
you, if you could help them to improve, and don't, you are leaving a
duty undone. But Robert Brown and John Meyler, and one or two more,
would be good friends for you through life, and you would be the better
for their companionship even now."
"But if I get mixed up with a lot of fellows, I shall be losing time,
Mr. Aylmer."
"Do you call our walk this evening a loss of time?"
"No! Oh no, sir, I always know I shall get good by being with you."
"That's a great compliment, my dear boy, and a sincere one, I know.
But now, are you not aware that what you have said is another proof of
what I am trying to make you see—that you want to live altogether for
yourself? You think, and plan, and work—all for what? You would get
this good at least from making friends with lads of your own age and
position; you would find your level, and cease to think of nothing but
Roger Read, Fishmonger."
A short silence followed this home-thrust.
"Have I offended you, Roger?"
"No, sir," said Roger in a low voice. "It is true. Jack warned me that
I must guard against that. Yet, sir, I do try to be kind to any one
that is in want."
"My boy, I know you do. Did I not hear only yesterday that you have
taken that poor old Betty Price, the fishwoman, to be your servant,
only because she is no longer able to trudge about with her basket? And
what I like so much is, that you never speak of these things. But there
is something more wanting; you must come out of your shell, and realize
that we have duties to our equals and to ourselves. If you don't,
Roger, you'll never become more than half a man. And I want you to be a
true man—body, soul, and spirit all at their best, so that our Lord may
have a trained soldier in His service."
"I'll do whatever you tell me, Mr. Aylmer, I know you are right."
"Then you'll subscribe to my Cricket Club, and come every Wednesday and
Saturday evening to help me to teach those who know nothing about it.
And that brings me round to my fourth and last head. You know I divided
you into four at the beginning, and I have disposed of the three
lodgers. Now for the house, Roger, you don't look half so well as you
did the evening you astounded me by proclaiming yourself a fishmonger."
"No, I am not; I miss the journey to and from Sandsea, and the pure
salt breezes. But I can't go back to the old way now; my business has
outgrown that."
"The cricket, and good long walks when you can spare time, will do just
as well. By the way, we ought to be walking homewards. No primroses for
me to-night; but if you keep your word, Roger, I shall not mind that."
"No fear, sir, I'll keep my word, and I'll try to get out of my shell."
It was not long before Roger felt the benefit to both mind and body
which followed upon this determination. He was a clever, thoughtful
fellow, and the study of the history of his native land led on to other
studies; in fact, he became so fond of reading, that his evenings
seemed as much too short as once they had seemed too long. He also took
so kindly to cricket that the two evenings in the week were not grudged
to it.
But it was a good long time before he succeeded in being on frank and
friendly terms with the lads he had so long kept at a distance. They
did not like him nor wish for his company. But he succeeded in time,
thanks, partly, to a lecture Mr. Aylmer gave to Robert Brown; and he
became popular when they knew him better, and he was much happier when
he had "got out of his shell."
And his business did not suffer by all these other interests; he
attended to it so thoroughly, and was so honest and trustworthy, that
when a new fishmonger's shop, with marble slab, gold lettering, and
every modern improvement, was opened in Kingsmore, the owner got so
little custom that he was obliged to close the shop in a few months.
Now it happened, oddly enough, that this shop also belonged to Mr.
George Rider; and Roger at once wrote to ask leave to exchange the
house he was in for this far better one, as he was quite able to pay
the higher rent.
Having got Mr. Rider's consent to this arrangement, he made a fair
offer to the disappointed tradesman for the shop fixtures, and moved
into his new premises as soon as his name, in all the glories of gold
and scarlet, had replaced that of the original owner.
So it came to pass, that at one-and-twenty, Roger Read was the occupant
of one of the best shops in Kingsmore, doing a good business, laying
by a little every year, and leading a very healthy, happy life—and all
because he attended to his grandfather's maxim, and never lost a chance.