CHAPTER XI.

UNEXPECTED ADVICE.

The next morning, after driving Martha Burney to Sealing as usual, Margaret filled her sleigh with good things at the grocery and provision stores and then made her way, by the directions Dr. James had given her, to the house of John McNally, the poor man of whom he had spoken. She found the distress quite as great as she had expected, and would not have known what to do first, had she not found there a woman from the neighborhood who was endeavoring to assist the sick wife. This woman at once made gruel and tea, and put away the provisions in their proper places, while Margaret collected around her the children, who were half starving, and distributed among them a plentiful supply of bread and butter, to which she afterward added a dessert of oranges and candy.

Poor John looked on as though it were all a dream, and watched Margaret's every movement as he would those of a good fairy, till, she turning to him, said kindly,

"Will you not sit down and have some breakfast? Perhaps this friend of yours will cook some steak for you."

Then he mechanically sat down on a chair near the table, and covering his face with his hands, strove to hide tears of joy that trickled down his cheeks. Margaret went into the chamber and sat by the wife, who was sitting up in bed drinking her gruel, while Susan, the friend, went to cook the steak, the savory smell of which soon filled the little house. Margaret left them with a promise to return the next day; but before she went, she put into John's hand a twenty-dollar bill, bidding him get every thing that his wife and family needed.

What a happy day that was for Margaret! She felt so light-hearted and joyous that she could hardly attend to her usual duties; but she endeavored to study and practise the regular number of hours, saying to herself, "If I am going to do good every day, I must not let it interfere with every thing else." In the afternoon she would not go out; she was sure the doctor would come, and she could not afford to miss his call. So Miss Selina took one of her friends to drive, and Margaret sat at home waiting. Tea-time came and her aunt returned, and still the visitor she expected had not appeared; at length, as they left the table, sleigh-bells were heard, and the doctor opened the hall door.

"There is a lovely moon, Miss Lester; can you not wrap yourself up and take a short drive with me?"

She hastened to get her hood, muff, and shawl, and in a few moments was flying over the frozen ground, in and out of the white moonlight and the dark shadows, the sleigh-bells ringing gayly, and her own heart beating fast with joy.

Dr. James was the first to speak.

"You can't think what a pleasure it has been to me all day, to think of those poor people relieved from their trouble and wretchedness; I am sure it has been a happiness to you also. The poor things consider your help as a direct interposition of providence, and I must say they seem full of gratitude rather to God than to you. They appear to consider you as merely a secondary cause of their relief."

"That is right enough, Dr. James; I owe a great deal more to them than they to me; I was never so happy before in my life."

"I can well believe it. But I must tell you something, Miss Lester, that may diminish your satisfaction a little; which I would not mention, however, if I did not think it would be useful in the future. What you did for the family was, in the main, excellent; but you remember I told you McNally was thriftless! Well, the sum of money you put into his hands was too large; when he went to Sealing for medicine and things for his wife, some idle fellows got hold of him, and the consequence was, I found him reeling about the street this afternoon, with a small bottle of medicine in his pocket, and all his money gone. I took him home, and administered the medicine to his wife myself; it was useless to speak to him then, but to-morrow I am going there to talk to him as he deserves, for he has not been drunk before for months."

"Why, I have done more harm than good."

"Not so bad as that, I am sure; you were injudicious, and a great deal too lavish in your bounty."

"Dr. James, it seemed to me very little to leave, when so much was needed; I quite congratulated myself on my prudence."

"It was a great deal of money for a poor man to have in his pocket. In almost all such cases the wife is the one to intrust with the money; she knows for what it is most needed, and makes it go as far as it can; but the best way of all, I think, is to find out, by interesting yourself, what are the wants of the poor, and supply them by your personal care. When you have time, you might go and talk with Rose--that is the wife--and, if you like, give her what she needs."

"I am glad you told me this, Dr. James; it will teach me to be wiser next time. You see I am wholly inexperienced, for I never did any thing of the kind before in my life. Now I am determined to try again. Can't you tell me of another case of distress among your patients?"

"Not at present, I believe, though, for that matter, I believe there is no want of poor people at any time. Miss Lester, excuse my asking you; do you want to do good systematically, and practically, and perseveringly, or is this only a passing enthusiasm, which will vanish when the novelty ceases?"

"Dr. James, if I do good perseveringly, as you say, I suppose the excitement will wear off, and it will become a very matter-of-fact, unromantic business, perhaps even tedious and inconvenient; still, I have thought about it all to-day, and I have made up my mind to help as many people as I can. So long as I remain here, it shall be one of my occupations."

"Very well, then; and for the direction of practical, systematic good works, I advise you to go to the Catholic priest."

"What! to that fat man with the red face, who laughs so loud?"

"Ah Miss Lester! if you had a little more medical knowledge, you would be aware that natural temperament is in itself enough to account for the corpulence of some people, to say nothing of the sedentary life a priest generally leads; and in finding fault with that laugh, you touch on a tender point; for it is, in my eyes, one of Father Barry's shining virtues. It is the 'being jolly' under all circumstances, and in spite of every thing adverse and difficult, which makes this obscure country priest a great man. Think of his life! What can be more laborious, more self-sacrificing, more ill-paid, thankless and disheartening? And look at his face! My dear Miss Lester, he is an educated man, and yet his intercourse is entirely with the rude and ignorant poor of this most bigoted of places. He is cut off from all those who profess to be people of education here, and who look down on him with contempt and suspicion, because they cannot even conceive what a life of devotion and self-sacrifice means. What could have induced him to choose such a life, liable to be condemned to such a place and such a people, I do not understand."

"Think of your own life, Dr. James."

"Ay, there it is; I often think of the two lives, and naturally compare them. Now, see the difference: I choose this place for myself, and shall stay here as long or as short a time as I see fit; he, as I understand it, is placed here by his bishop, for a year or for his lifetime, he knows not which. Then, I work among these people because it makes me contented, and because I cannot bear to see misery and not relieve it. But he, strange to say, is not moved by a spirit of active benevolence only, or even chiefly, so far as I can judge; for he believes human suffering to be the penalty of sin; a penalty which must be paid--therefore, better paid in this life than in the life to come; and when I say to him, 'Then why do you do good to every one within your reach?' he answers, 'For the love of God.'"

"Strange!" Margaret answered, feeling that he expected her to say something, but with her mind occupied, it must be confessed, rather with her companion's character than with that of the priest.

"Yes, you see he is as far removed from mere philanthropy as he can be, and yet I know of no life so useful as his; mine grows dim beside it. Then, again, when I compare our lives, he has none of that self-approval, or rather self-complacency, which is the staff and support of mine."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I say. Of course I know that my work is a good and useful one, and that I do it well. I know, moreover, that there are not many men of my age and abilities who would consent to live such a life as mine. Hence I feel at times a self-satisfaction which is to me inspiration, and strength, and refreshment. On the contrary, Father Barry, though his life appears to me crowded with good works, seems to fear that if he should die now his hands would be found empty. His life differs from mine in its motive: he acts from religious principle, while I help the poor only because it makes me wretched to see suffering without trying to relieve it. You see I talk to him freely; I meet him a good deal among my patients, and we have done some good turns for each other. I go to see him, and when he is not busy, often sit with him of an evening; and he is the best company I know. But I have been so engrossed by my own reflections that I forgot I was giving you advice; by all means if you want to bestow relief where it is most needed, ask his assistance.

"Why not the minister here, or at Sealing?"

"Dr. Thorndike here is, as you know, an old man, too old and infirm to visit much; he could not help you; and Mr. Sparks, at Sealing, has a large family, a wife who is always delicate, and a small salary. Poor fellow! he means to do his duty; but his only servant is a little girl, and after a wakeful night, walking up and down with the baby, he has to see to the furnace fire, split the wood, and do 'chores' generally. Then he has his sermons to write, his parishioners to visit, and little tea-drinkings to grace with his presence; of all of which duties I admit he acquits himself irreproachably. He is, in fact, quite a model parson, and so, I assure you, he is considered at Sealing; but, as you may imagine, he has little time for miscellaneous visiting among the poor. Indeed, he is only too glad to have Father Barry assume almost the whole of that hard work, and is on the best of terms with him in private, though he rails against popery and the priesthood from the pulpit in the most popular manner. No; I don't advise you to be guided either by our Congregationalist brother here, or our Methodist brother at Sealing. Father Barry knows every poor family for twenty miles around, and he can give you as much and more work than you can attend to." By this time they were nearing home and the doctor said,

"I am glad you are not discouraged by this little accident, at the outset of your benevolent works; it is brave of you, and deserves better success next time. You have done well for the beginning, and have reason to feel happy. I will go over to McNally's to-morrow, and frighten him a little, and in the afternoon, or the next day, you can go to see his wife again."

Dr. James declined to come in; he shook hands warmly with Margaret, and drove away. Miss Spelman was very curious to know what had taken place on the drive.

"Was he agreeable, my dear? Did he tell you about himself?"

"Rather about his friend the priest; how strange that he should think so much of him."

Miss Spelman shook her head, "I don't approve of that intercourse; these priests are very sly, and who knows that he may not be a Jesuit in disguise? I have warned the doctor about it, but he is very self-willed. Would you believe it, my dear? The only place he ever goes on Sundays is to the Catholic mass, either at Sealing or here, where they have it in the hall once a month; on which occasion Father Barry always dines with him. I do not mean to say that Dr. James goes to the mass every Sunday, for he often sleeps late on that day; but he never goes to church anywhere else."

"I don't blame him," said Margaret, "for not enjoying Dr. Thorndike's sermons; they always put me to sleep; or Mr. Sparks's either, for that matter, they are so intensely commonplace! I am sure I could write a great deal better ones, without having been to college or studied divinity, either."