Chapter 2

"Well," continued Tom, "I am sure you must; and I do not wonder at it. Now the truth is, that when you told me about your apricots, I thought to myself that I would come when it was dusk, and take two or three of them just to eat, thinking that you would not miss such a small number. But I did not like to go by myself; so I asked Fred Morris if he would go with me. He said, 'O yes; he would go anywhere, or do anything, to get some apricots.' He did not know of your tree, he added; or he should have paid it a visit before. I began to be sorry I had told him, and made him promise that he would not take more than three. When it got dark, and we were set out, I felt that I was doing very wrong. I wished to turn back; but Fred would not let me. He said I need not take any fruit myself if I wanted to back out; but that if I did not go with him to show him the tree, he would beat me within an inch of my life. So we came to the wicket together; it was fastened, and we clambered over the hedge. Fred had a large basket with him, which I had several times asked him about, and tried to make him say what he brought it for. He told me that I should see when the time came. As soon as he got to the tree, he began gathering the apricots as fast as he could, and putting them into his basket. I tried to hinder him, and said I would shout and wake you; but he declared that, if I did, he would kill me; and you know, Ned, he is nearly twice as big as I am, and terribly violent; so all I could do was to hold my tongue, and let him alone. Just as we were going away, he caught up a saw that was lying in the garden, and spoiled the tree with it. I do believe he did this just for the love of mischief, or maybe partly to spite me, because I had told him not to steal all the apricots. He would not let me have one for my share; though I do not think I could have eaten it if he had, I was so much frightened, and so surprised at him for stealing all your fruit. He besides ordered me not to tell what he had done, and bullied me a great deal about it, till at last I got away from him. I was too much afraid to tell you for a good while, but I could not bear that you should think I had been so very wicked; and at last I made up my mind to tell you exactly how it was.

"I know that I have been very wrong," continued Tom; "and that if it had not been for me the apricots would not have been stolen. I can't be more sorry than I am. And now that you have heard all, Ned, will you forgive me, and try not to think as badly of me as I deserve?"

Ned said he was glad to hear Tom had had no more share in the affair; and then, holding out his hand to Tom, he assured him of his entire forgiveness.

"Indeed, Tom," he added, "I forgave you in my heart long ago."

"I am sure you did," rejoined Tom warmly, "or you would not have been so kind to me. O Ned, you cannot think how unhappy it makes me when I recollect how often I have been teasing and ill-natured to you, notwithstanding your good-nature to me!"

"Say no more about that," replied Ned; "you have not been teasing or ill-natured lately. We shall, I hope, always be good friends for the future."

When Tom was gone, Ned related this conversation to his grandmother.

"I think," she observed, when he concluded, "that all Tom's sin in this matter came from breaking the tenth commandment. If he had not first coveted the apricots, he would not have been tempted to steal them. Through earnestly desiring what did not belong to him, he was led not only to commit a great sin himself, but to be the means of leading a fellow-creature into sin also. Fred Morris would not have thought of robbing the apricot-tree had not Tom put it into his head. In the Bible we are frequently charged not to lead our brother into sin; and heavy punishments are denounced against him who shall cause another to do evil."

"I used to think, grandmother," observed Ned, "that the tenth commandment must be the least important of all; I did not suppose there could be any very great harm in merely wishing for what belongs to another person; but I shall never think so in future."

Several weeks passed away, and the weather began to grow cold and winterly. Ned could not help sighing when he saw his grandmother suffering from the cold, and recollected that she had no cloak to keep her warm, and would have none all the winter.

He sometimes sighed, too, as he looked at the apricot-tree, whose branches were now dead and withering; and so did Tom. Both the boys agreed that it had better be cut down, and taken away entirely.

"How I wish," exclaimed Tom, "that we had another to put in its place!"

"So do I," rejoined Ned; "but apricot-trees, I believe, are very dear to buy. A gardener my father used to work for, and who is now dead, gave me this. I fear there is no chance of our ever getting another."

"How I do wish I was rich!" cried Tom; "I would give you an apricot-tree, and all manner of things besides. I should like to be as rich as our Squire best; but it would do to be as rich as Farmer Tomkyns. Oh, if I had only half as many sheep, and pigs, and cows, and haystacks, as he has, how happy I should be! Don't you wish you had some of the Squire's or Farmer Tomkyns's riches, Ned?"

"No," replied Ned, "I don't; because we ought not to wish for other people's things."

He then told Tom all that he could remember of what his grandmother had said to him about the sin of coveting what does not belong to us; and that doing so, besides breaking one commandment, is very likely to lead to the breaking of others also.

"But," asked Tom, "how is it possible to help longing sometimes for things we have not got, and yet see other people have?"

"We may not," said Ned's grandmother, who had come out to call the boys in to tea, and had overheard the latter part of their conversation; "we may not, perhaps, be always able to prevent covetous or envious thoughts from entering our mind; but we should directly endeavour to drive them away, and pray to God to make us contented with 'that state of life in which it has pleased Him to place us.' 'Be content with such things as ye have,' says St. Paul. And again, speaking of himself, he tells us, 'I have learned, in whatever state I am, therewith to be content.' Besides, Tom, the rich are not always happy. They have a great many cares and anxieties that we know nothing of. You cannot have forgotten what trouble Farmer Tomkyns was in last spring when so many of his cattle died of the distemper, and he was afraid he should lose the rest. It is true the Squire can afford to have always a grand dinner to sit down to; but of what use is that when he is, and has been for years, in such a bad state of health that the choicest dainties afford him no pleasure! Do not you think, Tom, that if you were in his place, you would gladly give all the fine clothes, dainty food, and wealth that you possessed, to be strong and hearty again, even though you had only a poor cottage to live in, and a crust of bread to eat?"

"Yes," replied Tom, "that I would, I am sure."

"We are all," resumed the old woman, "too apt, I fear, to think more of the blessings and comforts we want, or fancy we want, than of those we already possess. We forget that c those among us who have least, have far more than they deserve.'"

"What you say, grandmother," observed Ned, "puts me in mind of some verses in one of Watts's Hymns, that I learned by heart a little while ago. May I say them?"

"Do so, my dear," replied his grandmother. And Ned repeated the following verses:--

"Not more than others I deserve, Yet God hath given me more; For I have food while others starve, Or beg from door to door.

"While some poor wretches scarce can tell Where they may lay their head, I have a home wherein to dwell, And rest upon my bed.

"While others early learn to swear, And curse, and lie, and steal; Lord, I am taught Thy name to fear, And do Thy holy will.

"Are these Thy favours, day by day, To me above the rest; Then let me love Thee more than they, And try to serve Thee best."

"They are very pretty verses indeed," said his grandmother, when Ned had finished; "and I am glad that you remember them at the right time."

The day after this conversation, Tom told Ned that he should not be able to go home with him when work was over that evening, because his uncle was coming.

It was frosty, and nothing could be done in the garden; so when Ned had mended a rail in the little wicket gate that was broken, and had had his tea, read the Bible, got by heart a column-of spelling, and said it to his grandmother, he sat down on a stool near the fire, and amused himself by going on with a stocking he had begun to knit.

"How thankful I am to you for having taught me to knit," said he, "because it is something pleasant to do when I am in-doors of a winter's evening."

Just as Ned left off speaking a knock was heard at the cottage door. He ran to open it, and was rather surprised to see Tom, and with him a well-dressed, pleasant-looking man, whom he did not remember to have seen before.

"This is my uncle," said Tom.

Ned bowed, and set a chair for their visitor.

"I come," said Mr. Graham, for that was the name of Tom's uncle, "to thank you, my young friend, for your kindness to my nephew. I have long intended adopting Tom, and taking him to live with me when he was old enough to learn my trade, which is that of a carpenter, but when I came to Ryefield, a year ago, I found him so different in many respects from what I could have wished, that I gave up my intention, for I could not undertake to teacli a boy who was idle and unsteady. I now find him so much altered for the better, and Farmer Tomkyns gives me such a good account of his behaviour, that I am quite ready to give him a trial. He tells me that he has to thank you, Ned, for his improvement; that he has learned from your example to be steady and industrious, and to try to correct his faults; and that it is you and your good grandmother who have taught him to love his Bible, and take pleasure in going to church. Tom also tells me that it is his fault your nice apricot tree was spoiled. Now there is a nurseryman, a friend of mine, whom I have several times had an opportunity of obliging, and I have no doubt that he will give me for you a strong young tree, at the proper time for planting fruit trees."

Ned thanked Mr. Graham, who then added--

"The town where I live is several miles off, so that you and Tom will not be able to see each other as often as you used, but Tom can walk over here on Sundays, and go with you to Ryefield Church sometimes, and I hope your grandmother will allow you now and then to come and see him."

Ned's grandmother promised that she would; and then Tom told Ned that Farmer Tomkyns had very kindly said he would employ Robert, his younger brother, in place of himself.

"I am glad to hear it," said Ned.

"And so am I," said his grandmother. "It will be a great help to your father, Tom, to have you taken quite off his hands, and one of your brothers employed also."

Tom then said he had heard that Fred Morris had been caught stealing some faggots, and taken before the magistrates, who had sent him to prison.

The next day Farmer Tomkyns told Ned that in consequence of his good behaviour since he had been in his service, he was going to raise his wages.

"Now," said he to himself, "I shall very soon, I trust, be able to get grandmother a cloak with my own earnings."

This thought, and the prospect of having another apricot tree, made him feel happy; and so he told his grandmother.

"But, granny," added he, "do you know there is something that makes me feel happier still than the thought of the cloak or the apricot tree either; and that is poor Tom's good fortune, and"----

He stopped and hesitated.

"What were you going to say, my dear?" inquired his grandmother.

"And knowing that his good fortune is partly owing to me, I was going to have said, grandmother," answered Ned, blushing; "only it sounds like praising myself."

"It is very natural that you should feel glad at this, my dear boy," rejoined his grandmother, smiling kindly; "for there is no pleasure so great as that we feel when conscious of having contributed to the welfare and happiness of a fellow-creature."

R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.