RIGHT AND WRONG.
MRS. WHITE, Walter's mother, kept a small shop in Springcliffe. Her
stock-in-trade consisted in all the numerous articles comprehended
under the general term "haberdashery," in addition to which she also
sold stationery and toys. She was much respected in the neighbourhood.
In years gone by, when Walter was a little boy, her circumstances had
been very different. Then her husband lived, and rented a small farm
not far from Springcliffe, and everything seemed to prosper with them.
But after that there came a year when the crops failed, and a long and
severe winter succeeded. Mr. White, never a very strong man, caught a
violent cold, from the effects of which he did not recover. He died in
the early spring time, and the sale of the farming implements and stock
barely sufficed to pay his debts, and the widow found herself left
almost penniless, with her little son, then about nine years old.
She bore up under her trials with Christian fortitude; feeling that
God's way with us is the "right way," how rough soever it may seem to
be. In all her trouble she had one great comfort, and that was her
boy Walter. For his sake she nerved herself to recommence—and this
time alone—the battle of life; and, with the assistance of a few kind
friends, who had respected her husband, she raised a sum sufficient to
stock her little shop. By industry and frugality she managed to earn a
decent livelihood for herself and child, and to save money enough to
apprentice Walter to Mr. King, the carpenter.
"All's settled, mother," cried Walter, as he entered the homely but
comfortable room, half-kitchen, half-parlour, in which Mrs. White was
sitting.
The widow always closed her shop at seven o'clock, and she was now
seated at work by a bright fire, with a little round table before her.
At the other side of the fire Walter's chair was ready for him, and his
slippers were warming in the fender.
"All's right, mother, and we are to begin school on Monday evening.
Ain't I glad, that's all!"
"And so am I, Walter, I can assure you. It will be a nice occupation
for you during the long winter evenings, when there are so many hours
after work in which you have literally nothing to do, and—"
"And what, mother?" said Walter, with a half-smile, for he guessed what
she meant, although she had not finished her sentence.
"Well, you are a dear good boy, Walter; but you know I was always a
little afraid of that Frank Hardy."
"You needn't fear, mother, dear; he tried to laugh me out of joining
the evening school, but he did not succeed."
"Thank God he did not, Walter; there are more people turned away from
doing what they know to be right by being laughed at than in any other
way. I am glad to think you were firm."
"Yes, mother, and I tried to turn him, but didn't succeed either; and
Squire Forbes says I must try again."
"You will have opportunities for doing so when you are working together
at the bench; but I would rather you did not go to the mill cottage. I
cannot tell you all my reasons just now, but you may rest assured that
they are good ones."
"Yours always are, mother; but what about little Gracie?"
"The poor child would miss you sadly, Walter, so you can still go and
see her once or twice a week, as you may be able to find time. It is
the evenings I am afraid of, when Frank takes home Tom Haines, and
other bad companions."
"I shall have enough to do of an evening to prepare my lessons, mother;
and as for Tom Haines, I fancy he likes me just as little as I like
him."
"I should be sorry to see you ever do him or any one else an unkind
turn, Walter; but he is no good companion for you. Squire Forbes's
gamekeeper was in Springcliffe this afternoon, and called for a little
parcel I had ready for the young ladies. He told me there had been
another affray with the poachers out at Oaklands; and he says there is
a desperate gang of them about, and that he knows, for a certainty,
that some young men from Springcliffe have joined them."
"Oh! Mother," cried Walter, "then, perhaps—" He checked himself;
whatever suspicions he might have formed, it was not right to utter
them, when he had no foundation for them except in his own mind.
He refrained, then, from telling his mother that the idea had struck
him that Tom Haines was one of the party, and that he was trying to get
Frank to join them.
"I may be wrong after all, mother; so I had better say nothing about
it."
"Have you and Frank had any talk about Tom Haines?"
"Only a few words this evening, when he asked me why I never seemed to
care to speak to Tom now, and I told him plainly the reason. The other
morning, though, whilst we were at work, Frank began defending the
poachers, at least making excuses for them; and I scarcely knew how to
reason against him, although I felt that all he said was wrong. What
ought I to have said, mother?"
"Simply the truth, Walter, namely, that poaching is only a milder name
for stealing. Of this, too, you may be very sure that the poacher of
game will soon become the stealer of other things. Your poor father
used often to say he never knew an exception to the rule."
Much more the mother and son spoke of as they sat over the cheerful
fire. Happy mother, in having a son willing to trust to her judgment,
and to be guided by her advice! And happy, thrice happy son, in having
so good a friend and adviser!
Then Walter read a chapter in the Bible to his mother, a practice he
never missed. After which they had their frugal supper, and retired to
rest, at peace with the whole world, and happy in each other's love.
Sound and peaceful were Walter's slumbers, and he arose early in the
morning, so as to light the fire for his mother before he went to work.
Frank was late at the yard that morning, and Walter fancied that he
looked tired and sleepy when he arrived. The foreman reproved him for
being behind time, and Frank answered impertinently; upon which the
foreman threatened to complain of him to Mr. King when he came to the
yard. He came earlier than usual that day, and almost the first thing
he did was to commend Walter for having joined the night school.
[Illustration: "I shall have much pleasure in giving you a set of
drawing instruments," said his master.]
"You've been a good steady lad to me," said his master, "and I am glad
to find you seeking to improve yourself. I think you have a taste
for drawing, and, as a knowledge of that art will be of the greatest
possible use to you in your trade, it is a great advantage to be able
to acquire it. I shall have much pleasure in giving you a set of
drawing instruments, as a proof of my satisfaction with your conduct,
and I hope you will derive both pleasure and profit from their use."
Walter's gratitude shone forth in his eyes. His master's generosity
had relieved him from the only difficulty he had foreseen in the way
of his attending the drawing-class at the night school. He had been
told that drawing instruments would be required, and he knew that his
mother could not afford to buy them for him; now this only obstacle was
removed, and he would be able to study the art for which he felt he had
a taste.
Walter's love for his mother was unselfish, and he had never mentioned
the subject of drawing instruments to her, knowing that she would
at once have deprived herself of some necessary sooner than that he
should not have them. And he had generously determined to give up the
drawing-class, rather than cause his mother any expense which he felt
she could not afford.
How many there are who love their parents with a selfish love! And how
comparatively few there are who imitate Walter's unselfish example. As
Walter resumed his work after thanking his master, he caught, Frank's
eyes fixed upon him with a look of jealous dislike. Working together at
the same bench, as the two lads had now done for some years, there was
a degree of intimacy between them which, from the difference in their
respective characters, might not otherwise have arisen.
Walter had never harboured an unkind thought against Frank; and now,
when he saw the evil look on the face of his companion, he thought
within himself—"What can I have done to have offended Frank?"
Walter had yet to learn that the first decided step which we take in a
right direction never fails to bring upon us the ill-will and jealousy
of those companions who have not taken the same step in advance. Idle
people do not like to see others more industrious than themselves; and
it was the fact of Walter's joining the evening school which had first
excited the ill-feeling of Frank Hardy.
His master's open commendation of Walter's conduct that morning, and
the present to him of the drawing instruments, had put the finishing
stroke to Frank's ill-humour, and from that hour, he became Walter's
enemy.
What is true in mere worldly matters is still more the case in
religion. Our Saviour says—"Whosoever shall confess Me before men, him
will the Son of Man also confess before the angels of God; but he that
denieth Me before men shall be denied before the angels of God."
What is meant by confessing Christ? Is it not to let all men see that
we believe in Christ, serve Christ, love Christ, and care more for His
praise than for all the praise of men?
This is the duty of every Christian. It is not for martyrs only, but
for members of Christ's Church in every rank of life,—the rich man
among the rich, the labourer among labourers, the young among the
young. May we all have grace to fear God! It is the best and only
antidote against the fear of man.