HARRISON'S NEW HOME.
"But if any provide not for his own, and especially for those of his
own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel."
DURING the sickness and convalescence of their child, Mr. and Mrs.
Haven became so much interested in the nurse, that they determined
if she would accept the situation of housekeeper in their family,
to take a house for the winter, as they had long wished to do. They
knew that she was exceedingly unwilling to be separated from
Harrison; and, as they intended to offer him a home, they were sure
this would be a great inducement for her to consent.
This arrangement was happily accomplished, and Mrs. Danforth was
delighted to acknowledge that she owed so comfortable a home to the
industry and good conduct of her son.
Harrison went regularly to school; but when at home he was always
ready to do anything in the family, and rendered himself so important
a part of the household, that Mr. Haven often declared he did not
know how they could do without him.
Alfred, as I have already mentioned, was at boarding-school about
twenty miles from the city.
His teachers had more than once notified his father, that unless
he would comply with the rules of the house and of the school,
he must be dismissed. Mr. Haven had plead with them to allow him
to remain, as he knew the discipline would be of great service to the
boy. He also used all the influence he possessed with the wayward
lad, threatening unless he would yield to authority to deprive him
of his allowance and other indulgences.
Alfred promised to amend; but before the first half of the term
had expired, he was expelled, one of the ushers being sent with him,
in disgrace to his father.
If Harrison had not cherished so great a dislike to the character
of this boy, Mrs. Danforth would have felt that she must remove him
from the house, so debasing did she consider Alfred's influence.
Indeed, his impudence and contempt of authority was so trying to his
parents that they could hardly endure the annoyance of his presence.
Too late they learned that unlimited indulgence, without parental
restraint, so far from making a child happy, only produces misery
for himself, and for all those connected with him.
Finding Harrison so much of a favorite with his parents and sister,
Alfred took every opportunity of insulting the boy, sneering at him
for being obliged to labor when out of school, often boasting that he
had never done an hour's work in his life.
On one of these occasions Mr. Haven was an unseen witness of the
treatment to which Harrison was subjected. The boy was blacking
a pair of boots, and whistling merrily at his work.
"Blackey, take that!" cried Alfred, giving him a kick. "You ought to
have a sign out, 'Shoes and whistling done here to order.' I suppose
you expect father to set you up in business that way; buy you a stand
and half a dozen bottles of 'Day & Martin.'"
At first, Harrison seemed inclined to return the kick by a blow
upon the face of Alfred with the boot which was stretched on his arm;
but, checking himself, went on whistling louder than before. Alfred
grew irritated; and, calling his companion by some of the vilest
names he could string together, he started forward to strike him,
when his uplifted arm was seized firmly by his father.
"Filthy boy!" he exclaimed, in great anger, "for once you shall feel
the power of the rod." He then commanded Harrison to go for his
horsewhip; and, notwithstanding the violent struggles of his child,
administered a sound chastisement. Then, after consulting with his
wife, he set out at once in search of a gentleman who had recommended
a situation for his son.
Back of the dining-hall was a small apartment which Mrs. Haven called
the housekeeper's room. In this apartment the mother and son could be
as retired as in their own home. There, after the duties of the day
were ended, Harrison sat with his books and slate, busy with his
school lessons, or receiving instruction from his mother.
Occasionally a timid knock announced the coming of Ella, who liked
nothing better than to sit by the side of her old nurse and listen
to her words of advice to her boy.
Mrs. Danforth seldom spoke of her husband, and seemed generally
cheerful and happy; but, one evening when Harrison went to her room,
he found her weeping bitterly. She had been allowing herself the
luxury of looking over some letters received from her husband
just before their marriage, and this had brought the trials of her
wedded, life most forcibly to mind.
"My dear boy," said she, trying to compose herself, "I have long been
considering whether you were old enough to profit by the story
of your father's life. While you remember so vividly the scenes
connected with his last days, I would impress upon you the cause
of all his—" she hesitated— "of all, I mean, that is painful for us
to think of. Your father, as perhaps you know, was an only child.
His mother loved him so fondly that she could not bear the thought
of his enduring any hardship. His father was an industrious man, and
wished his son to be taught to work. He used to set him a daily task
before he went to his own toil; but the boy would cry that it was
too hard for him; that he could not handle the axe, it was so heavy;
that the hoeing made his back ache; and so his too indulgent mother
performed the work for him, in addition to her own hard labor. Many
and many a time did she split and pile the wood her husband supposed
had been done by his son, while he passed the hours in idleness or in
play. As he grew up, and this could no longer be concealed from his
father, he complained of want of strength to do hard work, and begged
to be placed in a store in the village. Here he prided himself
upon being dressed better than any boy in town; and his frank,
handsome face and funny jokes caused him to be liked by all. In this
business he might have succeeded, for he was acknowledged to be
a good salesman; but soon he grew tired of the confinement; it was
too much like labor. He grew more and more inattentive to his
business, until he failed to give satisfaction to his employer, and
was dismissed from the place. From this time, for the next four
years, he was constantly changing from one employment to another,
never continuing but a short period at any one thing, but always
finding some reason in the heaviness of the work sufficient
to satisfy his weak-minded mother. His father remonstrated again and
again; but finally said he had done with the boy, and would never
advise him more, let him do what he would. I suppose nothing would
have satisfied her but to have him entirely exempt from care, and
ride about in a coach. She often told him he looked too much like a
gentleman to labor with his hands."
"At length his father died, and the property was divided between the
mother and son. We had been attached to each other about a year,
I thinking of nothing but the easy good nature and the handsome
appearance of my lover; but my parents had always opposed our being
engaged. They said, again and again, that a man who had never learned
to work, who had no habits of steady, daily toil, could not expect
the blessing of heaven; that he lived in constant violation of one
of God's first commands to man, 'By the sweat of thy brow thou shalt
eat bread'; that the Bible was full of denunciations against the
slothful and the sluggard. Oh! how many times my good father repeated
to me the words of Solomon, 'The slothful shall be under tribute':
'The soul of the sluggard desireth and hath nothing; but the soul of
the diligent shall be made fat': 'But if any provide not for his own,
and especially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith
and is worse than an infidel': 'This we commanded you, that if any
would not work, neither should he eat': 'Slothfulness casteth into a
deep sleep, and an idle soul shall suffer hunger': 'He that is
slothful in his work, is brother to him that is a great waster.'"
"I well remember one evening when I had sat with tears in my eyes
because my father had treated my lover coolly, that my mother tried
to prevail on him to consent to my wishes. Father took down the
Bible, and picked out a great many texts similar to those I have
repeated, and gave them to me to commit to memory. The next day
he met me walking sadly behind the house, and asked me, 'Dare you,
Julia, unite yourself with one who lives in constant violation of
God's command, "Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work."'?"
"I, of course, made many excuses for my absent friend, and said that
I knew he wanted to find some steady employment; that he disliked
to be out of work as much as any one, but circumstances had not
favored him. He gazed in my flushed face earnestly for a minute, and
then said, 'O, my child! I'm afraid you're bringing sorrow and
affliction upon yourself! God's word never has failed, and it never
will!'"
The poor widow covered her face and wept. "Oh, how many, many times
those prophetic words have come back to me!"
"Father was a miller, and in a prosperous business. Every one of the
children had been brought up to labor at some regular employment.
About this time he wanted to build an addition to his mill. I noticed
that he went, for several days, to the widow Danforth's; but he said
nothing to me of his business there. One day he brought home
your father in the wagon, and told me that Henry was to put in a
certain sum, and become a kind of partner in the business; that he
had given his consent, if Henry would work regularly ten hours
every day for six months, we might be married.
"I was, as you may suppose, very happy, and very sanguine that my
lover would do all that my father wished. On account of being near
his work he was to board at our house; so that I had opportunity
to encourage him when his energies began to flag. Father said
nothing, but I noticed that he watched Henry closely; and I was
delighted when I found that the cordial, amiable temper of the young
partner began to have its effect.
"When I look back I can see that, but for this strict watching, and
perhaps my influence, he would have sold out his share in the mill
long before the time expired. But as it was, the season named
arrived, and we were married. My father did well by me, and offered
to give Henry a larger share of the profits at the end of the year.
But, alas! before that time my dear father died, and died too,
knowing that all his prophecies for his daughter would be fulfilled.
Henry had returned to his old habits of idleness; and even I,
sanguine as I had been, began to have fearful misgivings about the
future.
"We moved to another town near by, and then to the city, where my
poor Henry seemed always to be in search of work; but, when he found
it, could never conquer his distaste for regular employment; and so
at last he came to fulfil the prophecy of Solomon, 'By much
slothfulness the building decayeth; and through idleness of the
hands, the house droppeth through.'"
"You will see now, my dear son, why I have been so earnest to have
you establish in early life a habit of industry, and to cultivate
a taste for daily, honest labor. No matter what employment you have,
if it is honorable employment. Remember your little verse,—"
"'For Satan finds some mischief still,
For idle hands to do.'"
"Remember, my son, any work is safe upon which you can ask the
blessing of your Heavenly Father."