MR. EASY sat alone in his counting room, one afternoon, in a mostcomfortable frame, both as regards mind and body. A profitablespeculation in the morning had brought the former into a state ofgreat complacency, and a good dinner had done all that was requiredfor the repose of the latter. He was in that delicious, half asleep,half awake condition, which, occurring after dinner, is so verypleasant. The newspaper, whose pages at first possessed a charm forhis eye, had fallen, with the hand that held--it, upon his knee. Hishead was gently reclined backwards against the top of a high,leather cushioned chair; while his eyes, half opened, saw all thingsaround him but imperfectly. Just at this time the door was quietlyopened, and a lad of some fifteen or sixteen years, with a pale,thin face, high forehead, and large dark eyes, entered. Heapproached the merchant with a hesitating step, and soon stooddirectly before him.
Mr. Easy felt disturbed at this intrusion, for so he felt it. Heknew the lad to be the son of a poor widow, who had once seen bettercircumstances than those that now surrounded her. Her husband had,while living, been his intimate friend, and he had promised him, athis dying hour, to be the protector and adviser of his wife andchildren. He had meant to do all he promised, but, not being veryfond of trouble, except where stimulated to activity by the hope ofgaining some good for himself, he had not been as thoughtful inregard to Mrs. Mayberry as he ought to have been. She was a modest,shrinking, sensitive woman, and had, notwithstanding her need of afriend and adviser, never called upon Mr. Easy, or even sent torequest him to act for her in any thing, except once. Her husbandhad left her poor. She knew little of the world. She had three quiteyoung children, and one, the oldest, about sixteen. Had Mr. Easybeen true to his pledge, he might have thrown many a ray upon herdark path, and lightened her burdened heart of many a doubt andfear. But he had permitted more than a year to pass since the deathof her husband, without having once called upon her. This neglecthad not been intentional. His will was good but never active at thepresent moment. "To-morrow," or "next week," or "very soon," hewould call upon Mrs. Mayberry; but to-morrow, or next week, or verysoon, had never yet come.
As for the widow, soon after her husband's death, she found thatpoverty was to be added to affliction. A few hundred dollars made upthe sum of all that she received after the settlement of hisbusiness, which had never been in a very prosperous condition. Onthis, under the exercise of extreme frugality, she had been enabledto live for nearly a year. Then the paucity of her little store madeit apparent to her mind that individual exertion was requireddirected towards procuring the means of support for her littlefamily. Ignorant of the way in which this was to be done, and havingno one to advise her, nearly two months more passed before she coulddetermine what to do. By that time she had but a few dollars left,and was in a state of great mental distress and uncertainty. Shethen applied for work at some of the shops, and obtained commonsewing, but at prices that could not yield her any thing like asupport.
Hiram, her oldest son, had been kept at school up to this period.But now she had to withdraw him. It was impossible any longer to payhis tuition fees. He was an intelligent lad--active in mind, andpure in his moral principles. But like his mother; sensitive, andinclined to avoid observation. Like her, too, he had a proudindependence of feeling, that made him shrink from asking oraccepting a favor, putting himself under an obligation to any one.He first became aware of his mother's true condition, when she tookhim from school, and explained the reason for so doing. At once hismind rose into the determination to do something to aid his mother.He felt a glowing confidence, arising from the consciousness ofstrength within. He felt that he had both the will and the power toact, and to act efficiently.
"Don't be disheartened, mother," he said, with animation. "I can andwill do something. I can help you. You have worked for me a greatmany years. Now I will work for you."
Where there is a will, there is a way. But it is often the case,that the will lacks the kind of intelligence that enables it to findthe right way at once. So it proved in the case of Hiram Mayberry.He had a strong enough will, but did not know how to bring it intoactivity. Good, without its appropriate truth, is impotent. Of thisthe poor lad soon became conscious. To the question of his mother--
"What can you do, child!" an answer came not so readily.
"Oh, I can do a great many things," was easily said; but, even insaying so, a sense of inability followed the first thought of whathe should do, that the declaration awakened.
The will impels, and then the understanding seeks for the means ofaffecting the purposes of the will. In the case of young Hiram,thought followed affection. He pondered for many days over the meansby which he was to aid his mother. But, the more he thought, themore conscious did he become, that, in the world, he was a weak boy.That however strong might be his purpose, his means of action werelimited. His mother could aid him but little. She had but onesuggestion to make, and that was, that he should endeavor, to get asituation in some store, or counting room. This he attempted to do.Following her direction, he called upon Mr. Easy, who promised tosee about looking him up a situation. It happened, the day after,that a neighbor spoke to him about a lad for his store--(Mr. Easyhad already forgotten his promise)--Hiram was recommended, and theman called to see his mother.
"How much salary can you afford to give him?" asked Mrs. Mayberry,after learning all about the situation, and feeling satisfied thather son should accept of it.
"Salary, ma'am?" returned the storekeeper, in a tone of surprise."We never give a boy any salary for the first year. The knowledgethat is acquired of business is always considered a fullcompensation. After the first year, if he likes us, and we like him,we may give him seventy-five or a hundred dollars."
Poor Mrs. Mayberry's countenance fell immediately.
"I wouldn't think of his going out now, if it were not in the hopeof his earning something," she said in a disappointed voice.
"How much did you expect him to earn?" was asked by the storekeeper.
"I didn't know exactly what to expect. But I supposed that he mightearn four or five dollars a week."
"Five dollars a week is all we pay our porter, an able bodied,industrious man," was returned. "If you wish your son to becomeacquainted with mercantile business, you must not expect him to earnmuch for three or four years. At a trade you may receive for himbarely a sufficiency to board and clothe him, but nothing more."
This declaration so dampened the feelings of the mother that shecould not reply for some moments. At length she said--
"If you will take my boy with the understanding, that, in case I amnot able to support him, or hear of a situation where a salary canbe obtained, you will let him leave your employment without hardfeelings, he shall go into your store at once."
To this the man consented, and Hiram Mayberry went with himaccording to agreement. A few weeks passed, and the lad, liking boththe business and his employer, his mother felt exceedingly anxiousfor him to remain. But she sadly feared that this could not be. Herlittle store was just about exhausted, and the most she had yet beenable to earn by working for the shops, was a dollar and a half aweek. This was not more than sufficient to buy the plainest food forher little flock. It would not pay rent, nor get clothing. To meetthe former, recourse was had to the sale of her husband's small,select library. Careful mending kept the younger children tolerablydecent, and by altering for him the clothes left by his father, shewas able to keep Hiram in a suitable condition, to appear at thestore of his employer.
Thus matters went on for several months. Mrs. Mayberry working lateand early. The natural result was, a gradual failure of strength. Inthe morning, when she awoke, she would feel so languid and heavy,that to rise required a strong effort, and even after she was up,and attempted to resume her labors, her trembling frame almostrefused to obey the dictates of her will. At length, nature gaveway. One morning she was so sick that she could not rise. Her headthrobbed with a dizzy, blinding pain--her whole body ached, and herskin burned with fever. Hiram got something for the children to eat,and then taking the youngest, a little girl about two years old,into the house of a neighbor who had showed them some good will,asked her if she would take care of his sister until he returnedhome at dinner time. This the neighbor readily consented todo--promising, also, to call in frequently to see his mother.
At dinner time Hiram found his mother quite ill. She was no betterat night. For three days the fever raged violently. Then, under thecareful treatment of their old family physician, it was subdued.After that she gradually recovered, but very slowly. The physiciansaid she must not attempt again to work as she had done. Thisinjunction was scarcely necessary. She had not the strength to doso.
"I don't see what you will do, Mrs. Mayberry," a neighbor who hadoften aided her by kind advice, said, in reply to the widowsstatement of her unhappy condition. "You cannot maintain thesechildren, certainly. And I don't see how, in your present feeblestate, you are going to maintain yourself. There is but one thingthat I can advise, and that advice I give with reluctance. It is toendeavor to get two of your children into some orphan asylum. Theyoungest you may be able to keep with you. The oldest can supporthimself at something or other."
The pale cheek of Mrs. Mayberry grew paler at this proposition. Shehalf sobbed, caught her breath, and looked her adviser with astrange, bewildered stare in the face.
"O, no! I cannot do that! I cannot be separated from my dear littlechildren. Who will care for them like a mother?"
"It is hard, I know, Mrs. Mayberry. But necessity is a stern ruler.You cannot keep them with you--that is certain. You have not thestrength to provide them with even the coarsest food. In an asylum,with a kind matron, they will be better off than under any othercircumstances."
But Mrs. Mayberry shook her head.
"No--no--no," she replied--"I cannot think of such a thing. I cannotbe separated from them. I shall soon be able to work again--betterable than before."
The neighbor who felt deeply for her, did not urge the matter. WhenHiram returned at dinner time, his face had in it a more animatedexpression than usual.
"Mother," he said, as soon as he came in, "I heard today that a boywas wanted at the Gazette office, who could write a good hand. Thewages were to be four dollars a week."
"You did!" Mrs. Mayberry said, quickly, her weak frame trembling,although she struggled hard to be composed.
"Yes. And Mr. Easy is well acquainted with the publisher, and couldget me the place, I am sure."
"Then go and see him at once, Hiram. If you can secure it, all willbe well, if not, your little brothers and sisters will have to beseparated, perhaps sent to an orphan asylum."
Mrs. Mayberry covered her face with her hands and sobbed bitterlyfor some moments.
Hiram eat his frugal meal quickly, and returned to the store, wherehe had to remain until his employer went home and dined. On hisreturn he asked liberty to be absent for half an hour, which wasgranted. He then went direct to the counting room of Mr. Easy, anddisturbed him as has been seen. Approaching with a timid step, and aflushed brow, he said in a confused and hurried manner--
"Mr Easy there is a lad wanted at the Gazette office."
"Well?" returned Mr. Easy in no very cordial tone.
"Mother thought you would be kind enough to speak to Mr. G--forme."
"Havn't you a place in a store?"
"Yes sir. But I don't get any wages. And at the Gazette office theywill pay four dollars a week."
"But the knowledge of business to be gained where you are, will beworth a great deal more than four dollars a week."
"I know that, sir. But mother is not able to board and clothe me. Imust earn something."
"Oh, aye, that's it. Very well, I'll see about it for you."
"When shall I call, sir?" asked Hiram.
"When? Oh, almost any time. Say to-morrow or next day."
The lad departed, and Mr. Easy's head fell back upon the chair, theimpression which had been made upon his mind passing away almost asquickly as writing upon water.
With anxious trembling hearts did Mrs. Mayberry and her son wait forthe afternoon of the succeeding day. On the success of Mr. Easy'sapplication, rested all their hopes. Neither she nor Hiram eat overa few mouthfuls at dinner time. The latter hurried away, andreturned to the store, there to wait with trembling eagerness untilhis employer should return from dinner, and he again be free to goand see Mr. Easy.
To Mrs. Mayberry, the afternoon passed slowly. She had forgotten totell her son to return home immediately, if the application shouldbe successful. He did not come back, and she had, consequently, toremain in a state of anxious suspense until dark. He came in at theusual hour. His dejected countenance told of disappointment.
"Did you see Mr. Easy?" Mrs. Mayberry asked, in a low troubledvoice.
"Yes. But he hadn't been to the Gazette office. He said he had beenvery busy. But that he would see about it soon."
Nothing more was said. The mother and son, after sitting silent andpensive during the evening, retired early to bed. On the next day,urged on by his anxious desire to get the situation of which he hadheard, Hiram again called at the counting room of Mr. Easy, hisheart trembling with hope and fear. There were two or three menpresent. Mr. Easy cast upon him rather an impatient look as heentered. His appearance had evidently annoyed the merchant. Had heconsulted his feelings, he would have retired at once. But that wastoo much at stake. Gliding to a corner of the room, he stood, withhis hat in his hand, and a look of anxiety upon his face, until Mr.Easy was disengaged. At length the gentlemen with whom he wasoccupied went away, and Mr. Easy turned towards the boy. Hiramlooked up earnestly in his face.
"I have really been so much occupied my lad," the merchant said, ina kind of apologetic tone, "as to have entirely forgotten my promiseto you. But I will see about it. Come in again, to-morrow."
Hiram made no answer, but turned with a sigh towards the door. Thekeen disappointment expressed in the boy's face, and the touchingquietness of his manner, reached the feelings of Mr. Easy. He wasnot a hard hearted man, but selfishly indifferent to others. Hecould feel deeply enough if he would permit himself to do so. But ofthis latter failing he was not often guilty.
"Stop a minute," he said. And then stood in a musing attitude for amoment or two. "As you seem so anxious about this matter," he added,"if you will wait here a little while, I will step down to see Mr.G--at once."
The boy's face brightened instantly. Mr. Easy saw the effect of whathe said, and it made the task he was about entering uponreluctantly, an easy one. The boy waited for nearly a quarter of anhour, so eager to know the result that he could not compose himselfto sit down. The sound of Mr. Easy's step at the door at length madehis heart bound. The merchant entered. Hiram looked into his face.One glance was sufficient to dash every dearly cherished hope to theground.
"I am sorry," Mr. Easy said, "but the place was filled this morning.I was a little too late."
The boy was unable to control his feelings. The disappointment wastoo great. Tears gushed from his eyes, as he turned away and leftthe counting-room without speaking.
"I'm afraid I've done wrong," said Mr. Easy to himself, as he stood,in a musing attitude, by his desk, about five minutes after Hiramhad left. "If I had seen about the situation when he first calledupon me, I might have secured it for him. But it's too late now."
After saying this the merchant placed his thumbs in the arm-holes ofhis waistcoat, and commenced walking the floor of his counting roombackwards and forwards. He could not get out of his mind the imageof the boy as he turned from him in tears, nor drive away thoughtsof the friend's widow whom he had neglected. This state of mindcontinued all the afternoon. Its natural effect was to cause him tocast about in his mind for some way of getting employment for Hiramthat would yield immediate returns. But nothing presented itself.
"I wonder if I couldn't make room for him here?" he at lengthsaid--"He looks like a bright boy. I know Mr.--is highly pleasedwith him. He spoke of getting four dollars a week. That's a gooddeal to give to a mere lad. But, I suppose I might make him worththat to me. And now I begin to think seriously about the matter, Ibelieve I cannot keep a clear conscience and any longer remainindifferent to the welfare of my old friend's widow and children. Imust look after them a little more closely than I have heretoforedone."
This resolution relieved the mind of Mr. Easy a good deal.
When Hiram left the counting room of the merchant, his spirits werecrushed to the very earth. He found his way back, how he hardlyknew, to his place of business, and mechanically performed the tasksallotted him, until evening.
Then he returned home, reluctant to meet his mother, and yet anxiousto relieve her state of suspense, even, if in doing so, he shoulddash a last hope from her heart. When he came in Mrs. Mayberrylifted her eyes to his, inquiringly; but dropped them instantly--sheneeded no words to tell her that he had suffered a bitterdisappointment.
"You did not get the place?" she at length said, with forcedcomposure.
"No--It was taken this morning. Mr. Easy promised to see about it.But he didn't do so. When he went this afternoon, it was too late."
Hiram said this with a trembling voice and lips that quivered.
"Thy will be done!" murmured the widow, lifting her eyes upwards."If these tender ones are to be taken from their mother's fold, oh,do thou temper for them the piercing blast, and be their shelteramid the raging tempests."
A tap at the door brought back the thoughts of Mrs. Mayberry. Abrief struggle with her feelings enabled her to overcome them intime to receive a visitor with composure. It was the merchant.
"Mr. Easy!" she said in surprise.
"Mrs. Mayberry, how do you do!" There was some restraint andembarrassment in his manner. He was conscious of having neglectedthe widow of his friend, before he came. The humble condition inwhich he found her, quickened that consciousness into a sting.
"I am sorry, madam," he said after he had become seated and made afew inquiries, "that I did not get the place for your son. In fact,I am to blame in the matter. But, I have been thinking since that hewould suit me exactly, and if you have no objections, I will takehim and pay him a salary of two hundred dollars for the first year."
Mrs. Mayberry tried to reply, but her feelings were too much excitedby this sudden and unlooked for proposal, to allow her to speak forsome moments. Even then her assent was made with tears glistening onher cheeks.
Arrangements were quickly made for the transfer of Hiram from thestore where he had been engaged, to the counting room of Mr. Easy.The salary he received was just enough to enable Mrs. Mayberry, withwhat she herself earned, to keep her little together, until Hiram,who proved a valuable assistant in Mr. Easy's business, couldcommand a larger salary, and render her more important hid.
THE END.
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