CHAPTER X.

WHISPERING GALLERY.--POTENTATES.--THREE YOUNG MEN.

The last day at The Grange had come, and well was it filled up with active exercise and sport, song, laughter, and sweet converse. In the evening all met as usual in the library, eager for whatever amusement might turn up; for everything was _impromptu_ among our young people, and, whether story, games, or conversation, had at least the merit of spontaneity.

"I have a thought," said Alice. "There is a game I would call 'Gossip, or Whispering Gallery,' which can take in the whole of us, and possibly take us all in, in a double sense. Let Aunt Lucy sit in one corner of the room, and Uncle John in another; and we young folks can range ourselves between. Aunty can say anything she pleases in a low whisper to her next neighbor, only she must be careful to name some one; and he must repeat it to a third, and so through the line. The last person must announce distinctly what the whisper was, and settle any differences with Aunt Lucy, who originates the whisper."

"Very good," replied Mrs. Wyndham. "Only it is evident to me that I am going to be victimized!"

"O, you can stand it; you can stand it!" cried out several young voices. "Your character for truth and prudence is established; and with Uncle John at the other end of the line, you need not fear!"

And so the company was arranged, and care taken that no ear heard the "gossip," save the one for which it was designed. The mysterious message was at last announced, amid laughter and shouts from the youngest.

"Aunt Lucy says that Cornelia told her that Charlie reported that John had eaten ten slices of mince-pie to-day. He is very sick, and I'll send him home to his mother."

"But I only said, 'Cornelia and Charlie both told me John hadn't eaten one slice of mince-pie to-day. I'm afraid he is sick, and it is well he is going home to his mother!'

"Rather a difference! But who altered it? It seems to me Cornelia looks mischievous!"

"O, that's a way I have! Poor little me, all the mischief is put on my shoulders! But--honest now--Tom whispered so low, that I thought it might as well be ten slices as one!"

"And now change places," said Alice, "and put Cornelia head as a reward of merit--we'll fix her; and then we can try 'Whispering Gallery' again."

No sooner said than done, and Cornelia started the game by saying to her nearest neighbor, "How sorry I am to leave The Grange! I never was so happy in all my life; and Charlie says so too!"

But the outcome of this very innocent remark was as follows: "How sorry I am I came to The Grange! I never will be happy again in all my life, and Charlie says so, too!"

"Are you sure there was no cheating?" asked Mr. Wyndham.

"No, dear uncle, impossible," replied Cornelia. "I couldn't, and they wouldn't; they are all quite too good for that; every one of them, except, perhaps, Charlie, who is in a peculiar sense my own first cousin. But it seems to be a property of a whisper to be a _twister_; it is sure to get in a tangle, and comes out quite different from the way you started it."

"Just so," answered up Charlie. "It is like what they say happens in Cincinnati. You put in a grunter at one end of the machine, and in a few minutes it comes out in the form of bacon, hams, lard, sausages, and hair-brushes!"

"My dear Charlie," chimed in his uncle, "that is the loudest 'whisper' I've heard yet! But, seriously, boys and girls, don't you see in the game how evil reports originate, and how easy it is, by the slightest variation from the straight line, to falsify the truth?"

"That's so," said Mary. "And I have often noticed how whispers glide into gossip, and gossip into scandal, before people are aware. I've resolved many a time not to talk about _people_, but things, and then I'll escape doing harm with my unruly member."

"I, too," said Charlie, demurely, "have frequently written in my copy-book, 'Speak not of the absent, or speak as a friend.'"

"Now for another game," cried Gertrude. "Here is one of mine. I call it 'Potentates.' It's very simple, and you can vary it according to your taste. You visit a foreign country, and see the rulers and grandees; you can mention their names or not, as you wish. I'll begin, to show one way of playing it.

"I went to England and was presented at court. I had a superb dress made for the occasion, which I will not describe, as I see the boys are all ready to laugh. But my father had to wear a special drawing-room suit for the presentation, also, and he looked as funny and quaint as if he had stepped out of an old picture. His sword hung at his side, and he had to practice walking with it, and bowing over it, or it would have played him a trick. It was worse than my long train.

"When my turn came to be presented and the Lord Chamberlain announced my name, I felt like sinking into the ground; but I didn't. I think the dignity of my grand dress supported me. Somehow I reached the throne, where sat in state Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India, Defender of the Faith, etc. On either side were princesses of the blood, ladies of honor, and others according to rank. I had seen my predecessors kneel before Her Majesty, so I had to put my democratic feelings into my pocket and do the same. I made believe to myself that I knelt because she is a pattern woman, is the best queen England ever had, and is old enough to be my grandmother, having reigned fifty years. She graciously extended her hand. I did not shake it, as report says one fair American savage did, but humbly kissed it, and then retreated backward with eyes still fixed upon the Queen in all her glory, and scarcely knowing which gave me the most trouble, my long train or my wounded self-respect.

"I afterwards saw the Prince and Princess of Wales, the Archbishop of Canterbury, dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies--a brilliant constellation. But I very much doubt if they saw me. And these are the potentates of Old England."

"As for me," said Charlie Bolton, "I saw the Dey of Algiers, and a very brilliant dey he was! By way of contrast, I determined to visit the Knights of Malta, but on inquiry found that they had not been in existence for nearly ninety years, and therefore gave it up. Instead I concluded to see the Knights of Labor, who abound in this favored land, and appear to be potentates, as they can stop railroad travel, mines, manufactories, etc., at their own sweet will."

"As Charlie was in North Africa," remarked John, "I went to Egypt to be in his neighborhood, and had the privilege of seeing the Khedive. I found the country quite demoralized, the finances in a very bad condition, and few appeared to know who was the real potentate of the land, the Khedive, the Sultan of Turkey, or the money kings of England. General Gordon had been murdered, and El Mahdi, the false prophet, was dead also. Those two men were the greatest potentates Africa has had for centuries!"

"And I crossed over into Turkey," continued Tom Green, "and had an audience with the Sultan. I saw numerous pashas in attendance of one, two, and three tails."

"O, Tom!" cried Gertrude, "that can't be! Even Darwin doesn't claim that for man in the nineteenth century!"

"My dear young friend," answered Tom, "these tails were not carried monkey-fashion, but were insignia of office, the man having three tails holding the highest rank. They are of horse-hair, placed on a long staff with a gilt ball on top, and are always carried before the Pasha on his military expeditions. Always ask for information," said he, bowing to the circle, "and I shall be happy to impart such as is suitable to juvenile minds!"

"Very condescending!" "Deeply interesting!" "Just from college, isn't he?" were some of the remarks of the girls.

"The Grand Vizier presented me," continued Tom. "We had a good deal of pleasant conversation together, the Sultan and I; and I tried to convince him that the republican form of government was the best. Strange to say, my eloquence failed in effect. But he was very friendly, and asked me to stay to tea, and he'd introduce me to his little family--"

"Tom! Tom!" cried several voices, "Do keep probability in view."

"I declined, of course, even at the risk of hurting his feelings. _I_ don't want to see women with thick veils on; some may think it romantic--I know Alice does, for it is so mysterious--but _I_ think it looks as if they were marked with small-pox! Just then, the muezzin sounded for prayers from the nearest minaret, and the Sultan instantly fell prostrate on his rich Turkish rug, and began his devotions. He was just saying, 'Do come, Tom, for'--but he stopped in the midst, and I'll never know what strong inducement he was going to offer; perhaps he wanted me to be Grand Vizier. I slipped out while he was at his prayers."

"O Tom, Tom!" cried John. "I didn't think you could draw so long a bow!"

"It is quite understood that we are indulging in fiction," replied he. "You know that falsehood consists in the _intent to deceive_. No one will be taken in by my yarns, dear Coz!"

"Nor mine, either," said Cornelia. "For I was in Paris before the French Revolution, at the same time as our philosopher, Benjamin Franklin. I was present at court on a grand occasion. The king, Louis Sixteenth, a handsome and amiable monarch, and the beautiful and graceful queen, Marie Antoinette, were there of course; the young Dauphin was, I hope, sound asleep. The ladies of the court were brilliant, and everything as gay as gay could be. But to my surprise, our plain, simple republican Dr. Franklin was the central object, the 'cynosure of all beholders.' The king was quite secondary. Philosophy was then quite the rage, and republican simplicity--in the abstract--was adored by these potentates. One of the grand, gay ladies crowned Franklin with a wreath of flowers! And he was wonderfully pleased with all the attention he received, I assure you. It was a different scene from any in the Philadelphia of those days--with our staid citizens, and sweet, gentle, modest Quaker ladies in their plain dress!"

"And now," said Amy, "aren't you all tired of potentates? I am. This is our last evening, and I want dear Uncle to tell us a story--something from his own life, if he will--to finish up our pleasures."

"It would finish up your pleasures by putting you to sleep," Mr. Wyndham answered, laughing gayly. "Mine has been an unusually happy life, but not an adventurous one. I was never even in a railroad collision. Do you remember the story of Dr. Samuel Johnson, when writing his 'Lives of the Poets'?"

"Do tell us, Uncle," chimed in the young voices.

"He was trying to get information in a certain case, but could not elicit anything of interest. At last, out of patience, he burst forth: 'Tell me, didn't he break his leg?' I never broke mine; I can't get up an incident."

"And I'm very glad you didn't, Uncle mine," said little Amy. "And now I speak by permission in the name of the assembled company: You are unanimously requested to tell us your life, or something that happened to yourself."

"'Story! Why, bless you, I have none to tell, Sir,' as Canning's needy knife-grinder says. But if you all insist, as a good uncle, I must e'en obey; so prepare for those comfortable slumbers I have predicted. I will call my story

THREE YOUNG MEN.

"Now you must not expect from me," said Mr. Wyndham, "exciting tales of adventure, and hairbreadth escapes by sea and land. I have never read a dime novel in my life, and therefore couldn't undertake to rival them in highway robbery, scalping Indians, and bowie-knives and revolvers. My heroes were never left on a desert island, nor escaped with difficulty from the hands of cannibals, nor were pursued by hungry wolves; and never even saw a lion or tiger except behind the bars of a menagerie. They were not strikingly handsome nor charmingly hideous, nor had they rich uncles to die opportunely and leave them heirs to a few millions; indeed, they were very much such young men as you see every day walking the streets of your own city.

"I would gladly leave my name entirely out of the story if I could; but as it is an 'o'er true tale,' and I happened to be mixed up with the other two, whom I have known from childhood, I am very sure my dear nephews and nieces will not accuse me of egotism. It is the other two who are my heroes--not myself.

"John Howard and Mortimer Willing were my schoolmates, in the same class for years, neighbors and playfellows, so that I know them well. And I speak of them the more freely because they are now both living at a great distance from here, one being the honored Governor of a Western State, and the other residing in a remote town in the interior of Texas. Such are the changes in our land of freedom.

"But to begin with our school-days. We had not a genius in the class, neither had we a dunce; we were average boys, digging our way through the classics and mathematics, and not too familiar with science, history and geography. The world we live in was not much studied then. Such minor knowledge we were somehow expected to pick up at home, and we did after a fashion. I liked both these boys; but while Willing was the more self-possessed, showy and brilliant, I always felt Howard to be the most true; he was the very soul of honor, as transparent as glass without a flaw in it. Willing did things with a dash, and by his superior tact and ready language often appeared to know more than he really did. If he got into a scrape he was pretty sure to get out of it smoothly.

"I have sometimes known him, for example, to go unprepared to a recitation, depending upon his luck not to be called upon to recite, when, with his ready wit and retentive memory, he would gather up what it required hard study for the rest of us to put into our craniums. But it sometimes happened that Dame Fortune, wicked jade! forsook him, and Willing had to march up, as we thought, to certain disgrace. But whatever forsook him, one thing never did--invincible assurance. He would bear himself in so composed a manner, talk round the subject so ably, and bring what little he knew so prominently forward, that the professor himself was often deceived, and was sometimes entrapped into telling the very thing Willing most wanted to know.

"If any side-helps were given by sympathizing friends--for Willing was a general favorite--he availed himself of them without scruple. I remember the question was once put to him, 'What is the Latin name of the earth?' Any boy surely should know that; but for once his memory failed him. He nudged the boy next him, saying in a stage whisper, 'Tell us.' The teacher's ears were quick, and his wit also; he answered, with a quizzical look--before the boy could speak--'That's right, Tellus is one of the names; but you should direct your answer to the desk, and not to your neighbor.'

"In composition he was sometimes brilliant, but not always sustained or original, for I have more than once detected a striking likeness to Addison and other well-known worthies of our English tongue. Evidently the same Muse inspired both, for in style and sentiment they were identical; but unfortunately for Willing, they had the advantage in point of time, and made their mark in the world before he came along. The wonder to me was that the teacher did not see it; but his was not a wide range of scholarship, though thorough in what he taught. His groove was narrow but deep and well worn, I felt indignant when I heard Willing praised for what should have brought him disgrace; but he was so pleasant and ready to oblige, such a good companion and playfellow, that I soon forgot my righteous anger--until next time.

"Another trick of his I could not like. Possibly my young friends may have seen the same; for schoolboy failings are very similar throughout the ages. I don't doubt school-children cheated before the flood! They certainly have done so since. He sat at the same desk with honest Jack Howard, the most unsuspicious of mortals because himself so free from guile. Many a time have I seen him slyly glance at Howard's slate when we were solving hard problems in arithmetic or algebra. They were sure to come out even, neck and neck, as they say. But _I_ knew that if Willing had been called upon to explain the process he couldn't have done it; and he was sure to get the praise.

"As for Howard, he plodded on, never getting all the appreciation he deserved. Always prepared, but not always ready--for he was easily abashed, and then his tongue did not do justice to his thoughts. No fellow in the class--or, as we then said, no _man_ in the class--was so thorough as he, but the teachers did not always find it out. We boys did, however; and we knew, too, that what Jack Howard once got he kept, in the way of mental acquisition. But the best of it was, he was such a solid fellow as to worth. His word was never doubted; we could trust him in everything. '_Falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus_,' holds true, and the converse is also true, Faithful in one, faithful in all. Howard was true and faithful from the time I first knew him, a little shaver, 'knee-high to a grasshopper,' as children say.

"I'm the more particular in giving you an insight into the character of these boys as a key to their after-life. I know that the child is not always 'father to the man,' and that the insertion of a new and transforming principle into the soul will elevate and ennoble the meanest man. But as a general rule the mainsprings of character develop early, and the man is very much as the child has made him. The sowing then, brings forth a harvest afterwards. They tell us, that two natives of Scotland settled in the far West, and that each took with him a memorial of his fatherland--one the thistle, the national emblem, the other the honey-bee. Rather different sowing that! For while the dwellers on the Pacific coast have to keep up a continual fight with the thistle, the honey of that region is now largely exported, and is worth its millions. A little time has done it--and thistles are especially prolific, you need take no pains in the sowing.

"But we didn't think much of sowing and reaping in those days, though we were sowing all the time. The years flew fast till we had seen seventeen birthdays, and our fathers thought we should learn something of business if we were ever to be business men. Willing had influential connections, excellent abilities, and popular manners; he was a general favorite. He was placed without difficulty in a large importing house, where he gave entire satisfaction, and was rapidly advanced to a position of great trust, collecting moneys and keeping the accounts. His salary was large, and he was considered a rising and prosperous young man; he moved in fashionable society, married a dashing girl, lived in a handsome house, gave elegant entertainments, and kept a horse.

"Howard and I got on more slowly. Somehow, we always kept together, so that 'the two Johns' became a by-word. We were clerks in the same commercial house, and, although self-praise is no recommendation, I may say that both of us did our whole duty. We worked hard, as was then expected; were at the store soon after sunrise, and had everything in order before our employers arrived. Young gentlemen in those days did many things that are now the porter's work, making fires, sweeping the store, etc., quite new duties to us, who were fresh from Academic shades, and from communion with Homer, Virgil, and Horace. I can't say we enjoyed it much. Neither did we like the lifting of heavy packages and being ordered about as if we were inferiors. But we did not shirk our duty, and kept our tempers. John, good fellow, came out of the ordeal sweet-tempered, kind, and obliging; and I don't doubt that we both feel the benefit of this practical training to this day. Certain it is, that we mastered all the details of the business, and knew what to expect from others, when our time came to employ them.

"'The two Johns' went into business together, and for a time everything was prosperous. We married happily, and lived in comfort and moderation, as becomes young people who have to make their way in the world. Meantime we saw less and less of Willing, for in the daytime we were busy, and our evenings were very differently employed. He and his young wife--a pretty and attractive creature she was--cultivated the society of the gay and rich, gave entertainments, or were seen in full dress at balls, concerts, the opera, and the theatre. I sometimes wondered how a clerk on a three-thousand-dollar salary could live at the rate of eight or ten thousand. And so, with all kind feeling, we drifted apart; your dear Aunt and John's wife found their style of living so different, ideas on all subjects so opposite, and friends so dissimilar, that visits were only exchanged once or twice a year.

"When we were about thirty, commercial disasters befel us. A financial crisis swept over the land, by which some houses closely connected with our own were engulfed, and could not meet their engagements. We lost heavily. We struggled through it for a time, but were compelled at last to call a meeting of our creditors, lay our statements and books before them, and offer to give up all we had to satisfy their claims. That was the best we could do, and we then could not pay more than fifty cents on the dollar.

"Our creditors behaved most nobly and generously. They expressed the utmost confidence in our integrity and business skill, uttered no word of blame but much of encouragement, and begged us to go on and retrieve our fortunes. They settled upon fifty cents in the dollar as full satisfaction for our debts, and told us to take our own time for the payment; nothing could have been kinder and more considerate. For my part, knowing we were not to blame, I bore up bravely till that point; but there I broke down. I am not ashamed to say, that I wept like a child.

"Howard was the bookkeeper of our house, and a beautiful set of books he kept. The accounts were exact, the writing clear, the figures unmistakable--not a blot or erasure in the whole. They excited great admiration, and from none more than from Stewart & Gamble, who were prominent creditors. After the meeting, they invited Howard to look over their books in the evening, remarking that although they had all confidence in their head clerk, their receipts had fallen off considerably of late, and as they wished to understand the reason, they had concluded to get the services of an expert, which Howard certainly was. John accepted the offer, although he looked grave when he remembered that Willing had been head clerk for years.

"As our business perplexity was now comparatively settled, we went on as usual, only taking in sail and trimming the boat for the storm. But in our private affairs both families resolved to retrench. Our wives came nobly to our support, proving themselves true women; they themselves proposed to _double-up_--the two families to occupy one house, and in several ways to reduce our expenses one-half. Such an arrangement would never have answered if we had not all thoroughly understood one another--but we did. My wife is, as you all very well know, a model of amiability and of every household virtue, and the other John thinks as well of his Rib, and I suppose is right. The old saying is, 'If a man wishes to be rich let him ask his wife;' I can add, if a man wishes to be honest and pay his debts, let him ask her counsel, aid and coöperation also. We were determined to be honest; and our good wives helped us in this effort with all their might.

"How they managed it you can't expect a man to explain--it is a problem too deep for our limited intelligence--but certain it is, that while we always sat down to a plentiful table and maintained a respectable appearance, what had supported one family now answered for two. I don't think our wives were reduced to the straits of the Irish family, whose little boy reported to his schoolmates: 'There's a great twisting and turning going on at our house. I'm having a new shirt made out of daddy's old one, and daddy's having a new shirt made out of the old sheet, and mammy's making a new sheet out of the old table-cloth.' But 'twistings and turnings' of a marvellous kind there must have been, which the male understanding could not fathom; for while the house was always in order, and the two ladies looked as neat as if they had just stepped out of a bandbox, no bills came in, and a little money went a great way.

"One word more about this very practical thing of expense in living. We could have lived on as we had done, and no blame from any one, for we were in no respect extravagant; but we could not reconcile it to our consciences to spend a penny without necessity when we owed money. All four thought alike about that; we were thankful for health, and that we could provide the comforts of life for our young families. As you know, our dear children were then living. And I may here add, that both John and I lived to see the solid benefits accruing from the ten years of strict economy and active work in which all shared. Our boys and girls learned betimes to help themselves and one another, and were invaluable aids to their mothers. The lessons of self-denial were not lost upon them. They attended the public schools and received a solid education there; but the languages were picked up at home, and thoroughly, too. It is astonishing how much can be learned by devoting a short time every day to any study when the heart is in it; and I found that the boys were prepared for college, when our ten years were up, and we were able to spend more freely.

"But meanwhile, what about Willing, and the very mixed accounts of Stewart & Gamble? Alas, alas! how happy was our lot compared with his! We had cheerful content, hope for the future, peace in our consciences. We were respected by those around us, and by the business world, never more so than then. But poor Willing!

"Howard found it as we had feared. There were inconsistencies between the debtor and creditor columns, increasing with each successive year; and the effort had been made to cover them up by the alteration of figures so as to appear square and correct. Howard knew too much of prices to be deceived by these, being in the same business. The aggregate stealings--for it was nothing else--amounted to $20,000! And this was the payment the firm received for their liberal kindness and their blind confidence!

"When all was discovered, and Willing's guilt clearly proved, he was summoned to meet his injured employers. He must have gone with quakings of heart: but not even then did his cool assurance fail him, or the blush rise to his cheek, until he was made conscious that all his trickery was understood, and that public exposure and the penitentiary were before him. Then he gave way, and confessed all. He had not, in the beginning, planned deliberate villany--very few ever do who have been brought up to know the right. But the temptations to extravagance had proved too much for him, and his principles, never strong, had given way. He had taken two hundred dollars, intending to return it from his salary, and none should be the wiser. But fast living is a deceitful thing--almost as deceitful as the human heart. Bills came in fast--store bills, butchers' bills, carriage bills, confectionery bills, milliners' bills--swallowing up his quarter's salary; and one must have ready money, you know; so instead of returning what he had taken, as hope had whispered, he took more--still to be repaid in the future.

"I need hardly say, that each time he yielded to temptation the resistance of his conscience became less and less, until finally it appeared to be paralyzed. He had woven the toils about himself until he seemed powerless to escape; no chrysalis, apparently lifeless in its silky shroud, was feebler than he. He was strong to do evil but weak to do good. Everything conspired to push him down hill--circumstances were against him, he thought--but one thing was certain, he must have money, and then all would be right.

"But how to break the meshes? How to retrieve himself? One way only was clear to him--speculation in stocks, and on a margin; he could borrow money for that, for he would be sure to repay. _Borrowing_ was now the convenient name he applied to his stealing. He tried it, and at first succeeded; the deluded victims of all gambling, whether in the Exchange or in gambling hells, are pretty sure of success at first; and so they are enticed to higher ventures. Now he might have returned the ill-gotten money, and at least have saved his reputation. But no! the gambling passion was now aroused, and he felt sure he could soon realize enough to make him easy. He tried again and for a larger sum and _lost_.

"And so he went on until he was tangled inextricably in the net, and felt that he was a rascal, and a lost, not a successful one. Remorse seized him, but not repentance; for still he went on in his guilt. Indeed, he was more reckless than ever, struggling to get out of the meshes. Gay to excess at times, then gloomy; his temper became unequal, and to drown reflection he sometimes drank to excess. He was a ruined man--ruined _before_ exposure, for that only opened the eyes of others--his own down-fall had already taken place.

"I am told that when the proofs of his guilt were laid before him, and his confession was made, his pleadings for mercy were most pitiful. Stewart & Gamble had a stern sense of justice, and their indignation was in proportion to their former confidence. They were determined that he should not escape, and that, not so much from personal vengeance as because they thought it wrong to interfere with laws due and wholesome in themselves, and necessary to deter others from evil doing. He was committed to prison, a trial took place, and poor Willing was sentenced to five years in the penitentiary.

"When he first stood up for trial, he Was alone; all the friends of his prosperity had forsaken him. He was thoroughly stricken down, abashed, shame-faced, not lifting his eyes to the crowd in court; and no one of his intimates care to claim acquaintance with a felon. I could not hold back; much as I hated the crime, I could not hate the criminal. My schoolmate, my playfellow, stood there, alone, forsaken, despised; crushed to the ground, ready to despair. I went to him, gave my hand and stayed, while his case was up. Never shall I forget the look of mingled gratitude and hopelessness in his haggard eyes which had scarcely known sleep since his disgrace.

"O, it is well to be just! No doubt of that. The law should be sustained, and no sentimental pity should interfere. We must not condone crime, or the very object of law and penalty will be annulled. Philanthropy should be tender, but not weak; and if tears are shed and bouquets of flowers sent, it should rather be to the victims of crime, than to the criminal. But when a man is crushed with a sense of guilt, and down on the ground, that is not the time to spurn him; when disgrace is added to trouble, friends must not stand aloof. Many a poor fellow is driven to suicide by this course who might have been saved by kindness and brought to repentance.

"Willing's dashing friends, by whose example he had been helped in the downward career, who had eaten his dainty little suppers and enjoyed his society, now forsook him and held up their hands in horror at his conduct--it was so disreputable! I may be wrong, but I can't help despising men and women who share a poor fellow's prosperity and fall off in his adversity; giving an additional kick, if need be, to send him down the hill. Of all his gay companions not one stood by him on his trial, or said one word of pity, hope, or cheer, when he was condemned. The friendship of the world is a hollow thing, more unsubstantial than a bubble. It seems to me that nothing is so hardening to the heart as self-indulgence, luxurious living, idleness, the absence of any high aim in life, or any earnest effort for the life beyond. Certain it is the summer friends all vanished; their friendship wilted like flowers before a frost.

"That was the time for Howard and me to act like men. We were busy, very busy, but we took turns to stand by him, and show that we had not forgotten 'auld lang syne' and boyish days. Poor fellow! he wept then. Well did he know that we would be the last to extenuate his crime, but he saw that we pitied him while we condemned his sin. He spoke the first words of genuine repentance, or what looked like it, then and there.

"After his condemnation, when immured in prison walls, dressed in convict garb, and fed on prison fare, we visited him whenever the rules allowed it. We found him quite broken up--thoroughly humiliated, ready to despair of God's mercy as well as man's forgiveness. He was in the depths of trial, all the waves and the billows had gone over him, the deeps had swallowed him up, as the Psalmist poetically and truly says. We could not in conscience say one word that might lessen the weight of his guilt, but we could point him to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin not of one only, but of the whole world. We could tell him that Christ came, not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance, to which he promptly added, and from the heart, 'Of whom I am chief.'

"Calamity, sorrow, reverses and all the punishments due to iniquity, can never be relied upon to bring men to repentance; but in this case they worked well, and Willing became a new man. It was a great pleasure to us to see the change in his very countenance, wrought out by the inward principle, and that his sorrow, as time went on, was not so much for his punishment and disgrace as for his guilt. He made no effort to get a commutation of his sentence, saying, It was all right; he had deserved that and much more.

"Of course our pity was much excited for his poor little wife, who seemed almost heart-broken. My dear Lucy and John's wife, who had never cultivated intimacy with her in their prosperous days, now came forward in true womanly style, and made her feel that she had sisters in heart, whom she had not known. She had no near kindred, and the few relatives she had held aloof. Truly she might say, 'My lovers and my friends stand aloof from my sore; and my kinsmen stand afar off.' No one offered her help or shelter, of all those who had enjoyed her elegant hospitality.

"Immediately upon the conviction of her husband she wrote to Stewart & Gamble, offering to give up all her handsome furniture and pictures, and even her jewels, as a small indemnity for their losses; but they very nobly refused to accept it, advising her to sell and invest the proceeds. John and I, acting under the direction of our wives, who were enthusiastic in their admiration and pity for Olive Willing in her trouble, told her to pack her trunks at once and come to our house, where we had room enough and to spare, and that we would attend to the sale. She could scarcely believe she heard aright, and was full of surprise and gratitude, and, of course, accepted the offer.

"I don't wonder you think our house was made of gum-elastic; it really seemed so. 'Room in the heart, room in the house," was our motto; and the children most amiably agreed to give up one room and be sociable together; and I fancy they were, from the peals of laughter that often came from that room, so full of young life and spirits. And so poor Olive was settled down as one of the family. It was a new experience to her in every way. The industry of the house surprised her, and from gratitude and a proper ambition she soon sought to help, which really was the best thing she could do to relieve her trouble, and regain a measure of cheerfulness. But she had to learn first, and found two willing teachers in the noble women who had given her a home. She was an apt scholar and soon became mistress of domestic arts, which were indispensable to her in after life. Indeed, what woman should be ignorant of them, if she wishes to be helpful to herself and useful to others? Who would wish to be considered a mere ornamental piece of bric à brac, good to be set upon the mantel or against the wall, but not good for everyday use and comfort? Better be an eight-day clock, for that at least will regulate the goings of the household!

"In these new employments and in our happy home circle Olive in a few months recovered something of her wonted tone. She then formed the plan of putting her hitherto useless accomplishments to work, by taking pupils in music, drawing, and embroidery. We all approved her plan, and Lucy found pupils for her among our friends--not among those who had cast her off. This supplied her with ready money, and with a little increase to the sum John and I had safely invested for her.

"When his five years were accomplished, and Willing was notified that he was once more a free man, we were there to receive him, and conduct him to our house. He entered it, a wiser and a sadder man. We had formed a plan for him into which he and his wife heartily entered, and had already written to correspondents in Texas, to obtain information as to localities for settlement. After a week's rest Willing and Olive left us for their distant home, where they were soon at home on a small ranche stocked with sheep--the whole paid for by the modest sum held in Olive's name. They did well and are much respected. He has been able to enlarge his operations, and is now a thriving man; and what is far better, he is upright, honest; always on the right side; fearing God, and having favor with those who know him.

"But to return to ourselves. We persevered in a strict course of industry and economy, declining help proffered from outside sources. My dear grandfather, who had brought me up after my father's death, was very kind in offering financial aid; but I did not wish to involve any one in my misfortunes, or to cause embarrassment to one I so greatly loved. Besides, I felt confident that we should retrieve our affairs by our own efforts. So it proved. Eight years to a day from the time we attempted to make our assignment to our generous creditors we paid them, not fifty cents on the dollar, but one hundred, with compound interest. It was a glad surprise to them, but a much greater joy to us. O, boys! better it is to step forth clear of debt; to be able to look every man in the eye; to feel that you owe no man anything, than to own the mines of California, Arizona, or the whole of a Pacific Railroad! I cannot describe to you the exquisite pleasure it gave us to pay out that money. Those who have never experienced losses and embarrassments can scarcely understand it.

"We now had a fresh start in business, with a good stock on hand, boundless credit, and no debts. We soon came to the front rank among merchants. Indeed, so successful were we, that on my fiftieth birthday I resolved to retire, feeling that I was rich enough. My dear grandfather, who had entered into rest some years before, had left me The Grange, in which my earliest years had been passed, and here, amid the beautiful scenes of nature, and with still a large scope for my activities, I have enjoyed years of happiness. My dear friend, Howard, had landed property in one of the Western States and fancied there was more elbow-room there for his children who were settling in life; so at last we were obliged to separate. He has risen, as you know, to prominence, being the most popular governor of the State they have had for years, and even political opponents are loud in praise of his integrity and fidelity to trusts.

"I need scarcely say a word to show the meaning of my simple tale. A life of unspotted integrity and honor is the only life worth living; and to love God and keep his commandments is the only safeguard. You may have a good disposition, but that is not enough. You may have been well trained and instructed, but that is not enough. Your father may be the very soul of honor and to be trusted with uncounted gold, but virtue is not an inheritance, and you must be honest for yourself, self-denying for yourself, diligent for yourself, if you wish to build up a character respected by men and pleasing to God. 'Tis true, this is only one part of your duty, but it is a very important part. Truth and rectitude are pillars in family life, and the very bulwarks of society. If these fail, all else fails.

"And now, a pleasant and a dreamless sleep to you all. To-morrow you return to the studies and duties of the new year, which has begun so happily for us all. I dislike to say that word, Farewell, and so I will only wish you now, Good-night!"