8TORB 
 
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 ILLUSTRATED BY LESSONS FROM LIFE. 
 
 'Riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as an eagle." 
 PROVERBS xxxiii. 5. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 PKESBYTEKIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION.
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 HO. PAGE 
 
 I. THE GOLD-DIGGER 5 
 
 II. THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN 52 
 
 III. POOR PEARSON 78 
 
 IV. How LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH .. 95 
 
 V. THE PENITENT GAMBLER 120 
 
 VI. THE ODD FIFTEEN 141 
 
 VII. THE DIAMOND BROOCH 156 
 
 VIII. ROBBING THE DEAD 192 
 
 IX. COMPROMISE 211 
 
 X. QUALITY FCGG'S OLD LEDGER 223 
 
 3 
 
 - . - . 
 
 2212580
 
 BICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HAVE been very ill : I am ill now ; and 
 the doctor confirms my fears that I have not 
 many months to live. I have been fever- 
 stricken, and I am very, very weak. 
 I am in miserable lodgings here in Melbourne ; 
 it is summer and the heat is stifling. If I could 
 but breathe the air of home, I think it would re- 
 vive me. It is my only chance, the doctor says. 
 In another week I shall be out at sea. 
 
 I cannot stop here : I must make toward home, 
 though I may never reach it. I dream about 
 home every night, and think about it all the day 
 till I am consumed with impatience. It is torment 
 to me to feel that I am lingering here, unknown 
 and uncared for, while at the other side of the 
 world are kind, loving and forgiving hearts.
 
 6 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 1'oor, poor Grace ! 
 
 I shall try and write my story a gold-digger's 
 story. It will be a relief to me from the tyranny 
 of my thoughts and the dreary monotony of these 
 four bare and filthy walls, and from the dread of 
 my mysterious landlord, who never enters my room 
 but his eyes wander over every part of it as though 
 in search of something he cannot find. He knows 
 me to have been a gold-digger, supposes I have 
 been successful, and tries to find out what I have 
 done with the gold I gathered. I do not know 
 what thoughts pass through his mind, but he is a 
 depraved, unscrupulous man, and I fear him. He 
 would be disappointed, however, if he thinks he 
 should profit by my death, for I have little with 
 me in my lodgings to tempt him to deal foully or 
 treacherously. If I die here or on my passage 
 home, the gold for which I have sacrificed so much 
 will, I hope, have reached poor Grace safely. 
 
 I have been married five years; I had three 
 children, and my occupation was farming. I was 
 needy and wanted to be rich without waiting for 
 the dilatory returns of industry; and "he that 
 makcth haste to be rich shall not be innocent." I 
 have not been innocent. 
 
 I liked society, and I found it. On the next
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 7 
 
 farm to mine was a young man, the son of my 
 neighbour, who captivated my fancy by his ready 
 wit and exuberant spirits. If these were good 
 qualities, they were, I fear, almost his only good 
 ones. He was a confirmed and boastful profligate 
 and an idle spendthrift. He was two or three years 
 older than myself, had been unsuccessful in business 
 he could scarcely have been otherwise had half 
 ruined his health by excesses and his parents by 
 extravagance; and at the time I formed his ac- 
 quaintance he was living upon them in a sort of 
 lazy independence of control. 
 
 Let me give myself credit for ignorance of the 
 real character of Wilfred Raikes at that time, and 
 that while his father encouraged our growing 
 friendship he concealed from me, as far as he was 
 able, the worst points in his son's character and his 
 own disapprobation of his conduct. I believe that 
 the old farmer looked upon me as a young man of 
 correct principles, and hoped that my example would 
 exercise a favourable influence over his son. 
 
 It was an unhappy error. My principles were 
 outwardly correct, because they had never been 
 severely tested, but they hrd no right foundation 
 let me rather say no deep foundation : I was not 
 " rooted and grounded."
 
 8 RICHES WITHOUT WINOS. 
 
 Wilfred Raikes had a strong and obstinate will, 
 and a powerful though ill-regulated mind. Of me 
 it might liave been said, " Unstable as water, thou 
 slialt not excel ; " or that I was " like a wave of the 
 sea, driven with the wind and tossed. What wonder, 
 then, that he soon drew me aside, tempted me to 
 idleness and folly, and even worse sins than these 
 that I neglected my business and my home ? " He 
 that walketh with wise men shall be wise, but a 
 companion of fools shall be destroyed." Such a 
 companion was I. 
 
 My poor Grace my wife was slow to believe 
 how I was changed; and when the conviction 
 forced itself on her that my principles, such as they 
 were, were being undermined, and that quiet do- 
 mestic happiness had lost its charms for me, she did 
 not reproach me. She tried to win me back again : 
 only once did she venture to remonstrate with me 
 on my constant companionship with Wilfred Raikes. 
 I answered her angrily : I would not be dictated to 
 as to my friendships, and I vindicated my friend 
 from her charges. He had enemies, I said, who 
 were ready enough to magnify his failings; let 
 them look to their own. Poor Grace was answered 
 and silenced. 
 
 I returned home one night very far from sober.
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 9 
 
 I had been with Wilfred, as usual, and I had been 
 drinking success to him and his projects. 
 
 "You won't be troubled much longer with 
 Wilfred Raikes," I said to Grace ; " he is going 
 away." 
 
 " Is he, Mark ?" she replied faintly, but I thought 
 eagerly too, and I added, tauntingly : " You are 
 very glad to hear it, I suppose, Grace." 
 
 "I did not say so, dear Mark," she answered, 
 meekly. 
 
 " No, but you looked as though you thought so," 
 I said angrily, for I was stung by her very gentle- 
 ness. " You know that you are glad he is going. 
 Is it not so?" 
 
 " I think you should not ask such a question in 
 that way, Mark," my poor wife remonstrated ; " but 
 do not let us quarrel about it. Where is Wilfred 
 Raikes going ?" 
 
 He was going far enough away, I replied. His 
 father was going to fit him out for Australia : "and 
 you are glad he is going, I know," I persisted. 
 
 " If you know it, Mark, you need not have asked 
 the question," said Grace; "but I do not know 
 why you should say that you know it unless " 
 
 " Unless what ?" I demanded, for my wife stop- 
 ped abruptly short.
 
 10 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 "I would rather not say what came to my mind 
 at that moment, Mark. You are heated now, dear 
 husband, and vexed. Do not let us say any more 
 about it." 
 
 " Unless what ?" I said again, in a loud and I 
 am afraid a threatening tone, which served to ter- 
 rify my poor Grace. " Tell me what you mean," 
 I added. 
 
 " Unless your conscience accuses you of having 
 taken to bad ways through your friendship with 
 Wilfred Raikes," said Grace in a low voice ; " but, 
 dear Mark, I do not mean to say anything un- 
 kind." 
 
 I was very angry angry with poor Grace, 
 because she had spoken only the truth. My con- 
 science had often accused me, as she said, but I 
 did not choose to be told of it : I was not going to 
 have a conscience-keeper in my wife. 
 
 A week after this and Wilfred Raikes had left 
 his father's house, and I had a letter from him to 
 tell me that he had taken his passage and should 
 set sail for Australia in the course of three or four 
 days. He urged me to go to London and see him 
 on board the vessel. I did not show this letter to 
 Grace, for I had not forgiven her ; and if I had, I 
 knew very well she would have opposed my going
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 11 
 
 to London on such an errand ; and I had made up 
 my mind to go. 
 
 Two days after this was market-day at H . 
 
 I usually attended this market, which was eight or 
 nine miles from home; and it did not surprise 
 Grace that I made ready soon after breakfast for 
 the journey. It did surprise her, however, that, 
 instead of driving in our light cart or riding to 
 market, I announced my intention of walking. 
 She little thought that I intended to take the train 
 
 from H to London as soon as my market 
 
 business was transacted, and that I should not 
 have known what to do with my horse. 
 
 And so I left home. I did not think then that 
 years would pass away, and shall I ever again see 
 that home ? or if God should spare my life to reach 
 it, will it be only to die there ? 
 
 I remember that last leaving of home : dear 
 Grace standing at the door with our infant in her 
 arms, watching me across the meadow; and our 
 little Grace following me as fast as she could run, 
 and crying out, "You did not kiss me, father." 
 If I had then had a thought of the madness which 
 afterward possessed me, surely I should have been 
 subdued and have abandoned the guilty intention. 
 As it is, the remembrance of that child's kiss is a
 
 12 RICHES WITHOUT WIN OS. 
 
 reproach and a misery. Truly, " the way of trans- 
 gressors is hard." What should be happiness is a 
 barbed arrow in the soul. 
 
 I walked on and fast, thinking of my stolen 
 journey. I had put money enough in my purse to 
 pay my expenses to London and back and a little 
 over, for I intended to have a day's enjoyment 
 
 with Wilfred before he started. I arrived at H 
 
 and entered the market-room, thinking very little 
 of business, however, when a miller, to whom I had 
 lately sold a quantity of wheat, came to me, and, 
 to my surprise, offered to pay me the purchase- 
 money, for it was not due. It was nearly fifty 
 pounds. 
 
 That afternoon I wrote a hasty note to Grace, 
 and entrusted it to a neighbour who was returning 
 from market, and who promised that it should be 
 delivered to my wife that evening. I told him 
 and I repeated it in my note that I had been unex- 
 pectedly called to London on business and should 
 be absent two days. The pretence of business was 
 of course false, but the intention of returning at the 
 time I fixed was genuine. I write this now and 
 solemnly, because I find that I have been, natu- 
 rally enough, accused of having planned the flight 
 from creditors before I left home.
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 13 
 
 I went to London by rail, and had no difficulty 
 in finding Wilfred Raikes at his temporary lodg- 
 ings. I will pass over in sad silence the history 
 of that evening. It is enough to say that I accom- 
 panied him the next day to his vessel with a bewil- 
 dered head. 
 
 All on board was bustle and confusion. The 
 deck was crowded and loaded, so that there was 
 hardly, room to set our feet, and we went down to 
 Wilfred's berth. 
 
 " Now, Mark," he said, when we were by our- 
 selves, " you are going with me, you know ?" 
 
 I laughed, and he laughed too; but he knew 
 what he was doing, and he knew also that I was 
 weak-headed. 
 
 He knew more than this knew that my circum- 
 stances were fearfully embarrassed; that two or 
 three years of criminal negligence and idleness, at 
 a time too when double care and diligence were 
 required to make farming even a paying, to say 
 nothing of a gainful business, had thrown me 
 behind ; that an execution for rent was threatened 
 and hanging over me by my landlord ; and that 
 other creditors were impatient for their money. 
 He knew all this, for I had made him my confi- 
 dant. Poor Grace knew nothing of it from me,
 
 14 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 though she could not but be aware that things were 
 going wrong with our worldly affairs. 
 
 Wilfred Raikes knew also that I had fifty pounds 
 in my pocket; for on the preceding evening I had 
 boastfully emptied my purse and counted the 
 money before him. 
 
 I shall not repeat the arguments he used to 
 induce me to abscond how he accompanied his 
 persuasions with visions of wealth to be obtained 
 in an incredibly short space of time in the newly- 
 discovered gold regions to which he was going, and 
 with the certain promise of a speedy return to 
 England with riches ten times more than enough 
 to purchase indemnity for the freak, if any were 
 required. But why any should be required he did 
 not see. Was I not free to do as I pleased ? If I 
 chose to take a trip to the other side of the world 
 for a few months or a year or two, who was there 
 to say me nay ? As to my wife, why she would 
 like me all the better on my return, and would be 
 the first to thank me for my courage and decision 
 when she should find herself delivered from the 
 dread of poverty by the success of which he assured 
 me. 
 
 My imagination was fired. Prospects of enor- 
 mous gain rose before me. I had lately read of a
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 15 
 
 fortunate gold-digger who had in one happy day 
 discovered a deposit of the precious metal worth 
 thousands of pounds ; and of others who, by a few 
 weeks' labour, had enriched themselves for life; 
 and what should hinder me from following the 
 same track ? Strange that I had never thought of 
 this before ! 
 
 On the other hand, if I should return home to 
 poor Grace and my family and farm, it would be 
 almost as a ruined man, with difficulties accumu- 
 lating around me and hemming me in on every side 
 difficulties which would only be overcome, if at all, 
 by patient endurance and stern resolution, by un- 
 ceasing industry and rigid economy through many 
 years. 
 
 I shrank from this thought. The very idea 
 terrified me, and I could escape from the reality 
 by one bold stroke. Poor Grace! I had a few 
 compunctious thoughts about leaving her to endure 
 that from which I was tempted to flee ; and I pic- 
 tured to myself, for a moment, the sorrow she 
 would feel on knowing herself to be deserted by 
 me. But I would not think of this. I persuaded 
 myself that her love to me had cooled, and that 
 she would not look on my absence as a great trial. 
 At any rate, I should feel the separation as keenly
 
 16 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 as she was likely to feel it ; so that account was 
 fairly balanced. I tried to persuade myself, too, 
 that when I was gone she would receive assistance 
 which I could not hope for from her own family 
 and friends. And as to desertion, it could not be 
 that: it would be but a lawful separation for a 
 time. In two years I would return rich rich. 
 
 I had even the impiety to press Providence into 
 my service, and to argue in my secret mind that 
 the unexpected receipt of that fifty pounds was in- 
 tended to make my way clear and easy. If I had 
 not had that money with me . 
 
 Wilfred, seeing that I hesitated, redoubled his 
 arguments and persuasions. At length, in a delir- 
 ium of conflicting motions, I consented. 
 
 There was just time to make necessary arrange- 
 ments. One or two berths were unoccupied, though 
 the vessel was to leave the docks the next day. 
 We hastened on shore to the shipbroker's, and 
 paid the passage-money which secured a berth in 
 the steerage ; to the outfitters, and purchased suit- 
 able equipments ; to provision-dealers, and laid in 
 a sufficient stock of necessaries for the long voyage. 
 In all these arrangements Wilfred Raikes who 
 kept close by me, fearing, perhaps, that at the last 
 moment I should repent my rash adventure was
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 17 
 
 of great use to me, as he had had to pass through 
 the same experience for himself. 
 
 It was done. The next day we were on board : 
 late in the evening a steam-tug was towing our 
 heavily-freighted vessel down the river; a week 
 later, and we were out at sea that sea which, in 
 its troubled and agitated state, was no unmeet em- 
 blem of my own guilty mind. 
 
 CHAPTER ir. 
 
 I HAD written to Grace to inform her of my 
 flight, and posted the letter at Portsmouth just 
 before our vessel weighed anchor there. By the 
 time she received this I should be beyond the 
 reach of pursuit, if pursuit had been thought of. 
 I was safe, therefore, and determined to cast off 
 all compunctious thoughts and enjoy the long out- 
 ward-bound voyage. 
 
 There was little enjoyment, however. There 
 would not have been much pleasure if my mind 
 had been at ease, for the vessel was inconveniently 
 crowded and badly provisioned ; the captain was 
 tyrannical toward the steerage passengers, who were 
 at his mercy ; and the passengers themselves were 
 depraved and disorderly. The voyage was stormy,
 
 18 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 and the scenes on board were daily disgusting and 
 often fearful. On one occasion a mutiny arose 
 among the passengers : Wilfred Raikes was one of 
 the leaders, and after a fierce contest, when the up- 
 roar had partially subsided, he was subjected to u 
 week's confinement for the part he had taken. For 
 myself, I was too ill at the time to feel any strong 
 interest in these proceedings, and thus probably I 
 escaped sharing his punishment, for his influence 
 over me was as strong as ever. 
 
 Did I repent the step I had taken ? I think 
 not. I could not forget my poor wife and our 
 children ; and while lying neglected and miserable 
 in my berth, and subjected to numberless indig- 
 nities from those around me, besides suffering in- 
 tense pain, I thought how kindly and lovingly 
 Grace would have nursed and comforted me, and, 
 groaning with impatience, I wished myself back 
 again in my own chamber ; but as I gradually got 
 better the temporary penitence vanished, and I 
 thought of nothing so much as the wealth I should 
 accumulate when the voyage was over. My very 
 dreams were of gold. I had heard it said that 
 even gold may be bought too dear, but I would not 
 admit the thought. I know the truth of that say- 
 ing now, and can understand what is meant in the
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 19 
 
 Bible where it is said that " they that will be rich 
 fall into temptation and a snare, and into many 
 foolish and hurtful lusts which drown men in de- 
 struction and perdition." Truly have I, in covet- 
 ing riches, "pierced" myself "through with many 
 sorrows." 
 
 At length the wretched four months of our 
 voyage were over, and we arrived at Melbourne. 
 This is three years ago ; I have been self-banished 
 three years, and if I ever live to see home again, 
 it will be but to die there. 
 
 " The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." 
 All that I suffered then and have suffered since 
 was merited. I deserved to be betrayed and de- 
 serted, but I did not deserve it of Wilfred Raikes, 
 my prompter and tempter. 
 
 During the later portion of my voyage I had 
 seen that he had cooled toward me, and had formed 
 a connection with two men with whom even I, 
 guilty as I was, neither could nor would associate. 
 This had partially separated us; nevertheless, on 
 reaching Melbourne, Wilfred and I agreed to carry 
 out our plans in company as we had previously 
 determined. We procured lodgings therefore, 
 though with some difficulty, for the place was over- 
 filled, and took possession of them. Of my fifty
 
 20 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 pounds, not above fifteen were left, and I calculated 
 that I should require this sum to furnish myself 
 with tools and other necessary equipments for the 
 diggings. "What then was my agony on discover- 
 ing two days after landing that Wilfred Raikes 
 had suddenly departed in company with his netf 
 friends, after having robbed me of all my money, 
 thus leaving me absolutely destitute ! 
 
 I proclaimed the wrong I had suffered, but no 
 one heeded me or offered to assist me. In my de- 
 spair I carried my complaints to the police court, 
 and was laughed at when I asked for redress. I 
 was turned out of my lodgings with insult and 
 abuse, and for several days I was on the brink of 
 starvation, wandering through the day in search 
 of employment which I could not find, and resting 
 at night on the muddy wharves of the river. For 
 the first time in my life I, like the poor prodigal 
 of the parable, " began to be in want." 
 
 " And no man gave unto" me. It seemed as 
 though the hurried, feverish pursuit of gold had 
 hardened every human heart there. At length, 
 when almost crushed and despairing, I obtained 
 work. 
 
 For six months I toiled at road-making, and re- 
 ceived wages barely sufficient to sustain life. Yet
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 21 
 
 even then I had no desire to return home: my 
 thirst for wealth increased upon me. I saw re- 
 turned gold-diggers, in the full flush of recent suc- 
 cess, scattering prodigally around them and con- 
 suming on their lusts and appetites the fruits of 
 their labours ; and the wives whom they had left 
 behind them at Melbourne in destitution and mis- 
 ery indescribable, I now saw flaunting in the filthy 
 streets in silks, satins and jewelry, purchased as 
 I knew at enormous cost ; and I was maddened to 
 excitement at the thought that the loss of the few 
 pounds of which my false friend had robbed me 
 had barred my present access to the regions of gold. 
 
 I redoubled my efforts, rigidly curtailed my ex- 
 penses, and sought the acquaintance of others who, 
 like myself, panted for the acquirement of wealth. 
 If I had laboured and striven half as hard on my 
 farm in England as I laboured and strove to earn 
 and lay by a scanty pittance in Australia, I might 
 at this time have been happy and prosperous, with 
 my wife and family around me. Such reflections 
 as these crowded into my mind at times, but it 
 was too late, and I strove to banish them. 
 
 At the end of six months I had saved money 
 enough to purchase a few tools, and so had my 
 new associates, or, if they had not saved, by some
 
 22 RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 means they had obtained money. There were two 
 of them ; both were dissolute men, and ignorant 
 almost "as the beasts that perish." In my better 
 days at home I should have shrunk from such 
 companionship, but my intercourse with Wilfred 
 Raikes had familiarized me with low vice and cun- 
 ning, and prepared me for lower depths of igno- 
 miny. Besides, there was one common point of 
 attraction we were each of us madly hankering 
 after wealth. The men also had previously been 
 gold-diggers had found gold and returned with it 
 to Melbourne to squander it in criminal follies; 
 they knew, therefore, how to proceed. So our co- 
 partnership was formed. 
 
 The journey was long and laborious, yet there 
 was no danger that we should lose our way, for the 
 track made by thousands of heavy footsteps going 
 and returning was broad and palpable ; and we 
 daily met straggling parties of returning diggers, 
 some exulting in their success, but more downcast 
 and maddened with disappointment, and all hag- 
 gard and toil-worn. There were rude huts on the 
 road too, at long distances apart, where bread and 
 biscuits and spirits and beer were to be obtained 
 by those who had money or native gold. But for 
 these we should have starved on the road, and very
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 23 
 
 soon our scanty stock of money was exhausted, and 
 yet we struggled on. To have gone back indeed 
 would have been worse. 
 
 Had my conscience been at ease if I had felt 
 myself in the path of duty my condition then 
 would have been miserable enough, worn out with 
 fatigue as I was, and my only companions men of 
 the lowest grade of uncultivated intellect, and fa- 
 miliar, as I by this time had reason to believe, with 
 deeds of dishonesty and violence, perhaps of blood- 
 shed ; for they made no scruple of boasting of 
 former deeds, and seemed to treat me as a co-part- 
 ner in their guilty intentions as well as in lawful 
 gains. 
 
 And yet, miserable as I was, I would not suffer 
 my memory to dwell upon the past. I had com- 
 mitted myself to a desperate course, and I would 
 go on or perish in the attempt to obtain wealth. 
 
 At length, exhausted with fatigue, we reached 
 
 the end of our journey, the diggings. It was 
 
 a strange and motley scene, which, in other and 
 happier states of mind, would have amused me. 
 There was a monster encampment ; many hundreds 
 of tents of all sizes and descriptions, together with 
 rude huts or gungahs, filled up the valley and en- 
 croached on the neighbouring hills. Ten thousand
 
 24 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 men, it was computed, were gathered in the valley 
 at that time, all eager for gain ; the greater number 
 working the ground for gold, but many taking a 
 surer if a somewhat slower road to prosperity by 
 supplying the wants of the strange community. 
 
 I have but little heart, however, to describe the 
 scenes I witnessed, and those who may read this 
 story of mine have doubtless elsewhere met with 
 more graphic descriptions than I could give. Let 
 me continue, then, to write of myself and what 
 concerns my own immediate history. 
 
 With difficulty my partners and I fixed upon a 
 spot to commence our labours, and obtained on 
 credit the necessary license to work. We had 
 neither money nor provisions, and we slept that 
 night unsheltered and hungry on the hillside. On 
 the morrow we began to handle pick and shovel. 
 
 It might be that physical weakness was creeping 
 over me, or that, unused to continuous exertion, I 
 had miscalculated my powers of endurance; but, 
 from whatever cause, I felt myself unequal to the 
 labour. Many times that day I threw down my 
 tool in despair, and was induced to resume it only 
 by the taunts and reproaches of my partners, to 
 whom I already felt I was doomed to be a servant 
 if not a slave. It was for this that they had con-
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 25 
 
 Bested to the so-called partnership : they were vir- 
 tually my masters and my tyrants. 
 
 And it was for this that I had neglected my busi- 
 ness, discarded domestic enjoyments, abandoned my 
 home and deserted poor Grace and our little ones 
 to toil under task-masters who would, as I fore- 
 saw, exact from me double exertion and rob me of 
 my fair proportion of gain ! They were stronger 
 than I, and how should I resist them where might 
 gave right, where law and justice might be set at 
 defiance almost with impunity, and where all around 
 me were too busily and selfishly engaged in the 
 restless struggle for gold to heed the injustice and 
 cruelty which passed before their eyes? 
 
 It was my just meed ; I had deserved it all. Yet 
 even then, while I was reaping the first fruits of 
 my own doings in the sufferings I endured and the 
 disappointments I had experienced, I did not regret 
 those doings. 
 
 Days, weeks, and months passed away, and I was 
 almost as poor as when I commenced the exhaust- 
 ing labours poorer than when I landed on the 
 shores of Australia. My partners, who, under pre- 
 tence of being practiced hands at the operation, 
 drew up, conveyed away and washed in the stream 
 the soil and grit which I laboured to loosen from
 
 26 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 its bed far below the surface of the ground, con- 
 stantly spoke of our want of success, while they 
 divided every evening the scanty proceeds of our 
 day's exertion. Yet they combatted my proposal 
 to try another spot, and required me every morning 
 to descend to my hateful labour. Then I began to 
 suspect that they were playing me false, and at 
 length suspicion ripened into certainty. 
 
 Timidly I accused them of their treachery, and 
 they angrily rebutted the charge. I persisted more 
 boldly, and they fell upon me with savage blows, 
 and soon laid me senseless in our wretched hut. 
 When I recovered I found myself alone, cruelly 
 wounded and very faint. When morning came it 
 was plain that I had been again robbed of the small 
 portion of gold I had saved, and that my partners 
 had fled. 
 
 I know now that they had gathered a rich har- 
 vest by my labour, and that they had sought and 
 invited the quarrel with me when our (or rather 
 my) deep digging had become unproductive. Thus 
 had my hopes been once more blighted, and the 
 poverty from which I had striven to escape pursued 
 me as an armed man. Yet I was not sorry that I 
 had sinned. 
 
 While bemoaning the ruggedness of my lot and
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 27 
 
 the wretchedness I had brought on myself, a letter 
 reached me from my poor Grace. I had written 
 to her from Melbourne, and her answer had found 
 me out at the diggings. 
 
 Poor, poor Grace ! 
 
 How many times since then have I thought of 
 the words, the true words oh how true ! " None 
 of us liveth to himself." The wrong I have done 
 had not in its consequences fallen on me alone: 
 there were other and greater sufferers, though inno- 
 cent of my guilt. 
 
 She did not upbraid me my patient, all-endu- 
 ring wife. She made no pretence of forgiving me : 
 her letter did not speak of forgiveness, for that 
 would have been reproachful. Thus I know she 
 argued. But she wrote hopefully of the time when 
 we should meet again not rich, however ; no, not 
 rich Grace had no faith in my dreams of wealth 
 but she hoped that God would preserve me, and 
 keep me from evil from all evil, and take me 
 back again to her safely ; and if in poverty well, 
 never mind poverty, so that we might struggle 
 against it together, in faith and love and patience 
 and resignation yes, in resignation. 
 
 She was thankful, Grace said, that I had been 
 undeceived about Wilfred Raikes ; and she looked
 
 28 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 upon it as a token for good that my eyes had been 
 opened. 
 
 There was much like this in her letter so mild, 
 kind and gentle ; just as her words, and actions too,, 
 had always been. 
 
 Then there was a postscript : 
 
 "I did not mean to tell you when I began to 
 write, dear Mark, but perhaps it is right you 
 should know, that we are not in our old home 
 now." I cannot go on with the quotation from 
 poor Grace's letter. Very lightly indeed did she 
 touch upon her troubles, but it was too plain that 
 she was plunged into poverty and distress. Our 
 landlord had distrained for rent, and she and our 
 children had been without a home were still 
 without a home, unless a single room in a tenant's 
 cottage could be called home. Worse than this, 
 poor Grace's friends, who I thought would help 
 her after I left, looked coldly upon her, blamed her 
 and refused to render her any assistance. Worse 
 still, there were some, as I have hinted, who 
 charged her with having been privy to my base 
 desertion, and, indeed, of having planned it with 
 me. 
 
 All this I gathered from the few words in 
 Grace's postscript; and then for the first time did
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 29 
 
 remorse fasten upon ray soul. I cast myself on 
 the ground passionately and groaned in sore dis- 
 tress. There was poor Grace, with our little ones, 
 thousands, thousands of miles away, suffering all 
 these indignities and wrongs, and I the cause ! I, 
 who had no power to help, though she were 
 perishing ! 
 
 Header, I have said remorse, but remorse is not 
 repentance. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FROM this time I laboured alone and avoided 
 all society, because I distrusted all around me. 
 For many weeks I obtained a bare sustenance, and 
 my strength was fast failing. Still, my determina- 
 tion was undiminished : I would have gold or die 
 in the attempt to obtain it. 
 
 Morning after morning, then, I hastened to my 
 weary, solitary labour, and night after night I 
 returned to my hut faint and disappointed. I was 
 not alone in this. Of the thousands around me, 
 the greater number, probably, would have been 
 richer with equal application and earnestness at 
 the ordinary avocations they had abandoned. 
 Nevertheless, gold to a large amount was found
 
 30 ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 daily. All found some; a few, who were called 
 lucky and fortunate, came to rich deposits of the 
 precious metal and obtained it in large quantities, 
 and every digger hoped to meet, some day, with 
 equal or greater success, and to return home 
 enriched and envied. 
 
 This was my hope, and I gave myself no respite 
 from my labour, except that Sunday was observed, 
 
 even in the mixed community at the diggings, 
 
 as a day of rest. 
 
 To some it was more than this. Among the 
 multitudes who had thus been strangely brought 
 together were some who remembered that they had 
 souls. All were not ungodly. A large tent had 
 been raised, too, as a place of worship a taber- 
 nacle in that wilderness in which public services 
 were conducted and the gospel of Christ was 
 preached. 
 
 I knew but little of this, however. I avoided 
 the preaching tent, and shunned intercourse with 
 the ministers of religion and the distributors of 
 Bibles and tracts who had found their way to the 
 diggings. I did not want to be reminded of my 
 obligations. My conscience was not at rest, and I 
 dreaded lest it should be aroused from its uneasy 
 slumber. So I passed my Sundays partly in
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 31 
 
 bodily repose, and partly in wandering without an 
 aim through the encampment. 
 
 One Sunday evening I was thus wandering 
 alone for I would have no companionship and 
 had reached the outskirts of the encampment 
 when, just after passing a tent, I heard my name 
 faintly uttered. 
 
 I turned suddenly. The tent was thrown open, 
 for the day had been stiflingly hot, and seated on 
 the ground just within its entrance was a pale, 
 haggard, emaciated man, whom I had much dif- 
 ficulty in persuading myself could be Wilfred 
 Raikes. But it was he. 
 
 He was alone, and at his invitation I entered 
 the tent and seated myself by his side. For a 
 time neither of us spoke, for he seemed almost 
 incapable of exertion, and I wished to hear first 
 what he would say. Besides, I was filled with 
 conflicting feelings indignation at the wrong I had 
 suffered at his hands, and compassion for one who 
 had been my friend, and who was now evidently 
 drawing near to death. 
 
 At length he spoke. He felt himself to be 
 dying, he said, and now that we had met he 
 should die easier if I would assure him of my for- 
 giveness.
 
 32 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 I cannot tell how it was, but my anger melted 
 away. I sat with poor Wilfred through that night, 
 and neglected my work on several following days 
 that I might wait on him. He was reduced to a 
 deplorable state of weakness, and was alone. I 
 never could learn from him the history of his life 
 since he parted from me at Melbourne, nor what 
 had become of his companions. He had little 
 breath left for talking. 
 
 Every day he became weaker rapidly; and a 
 young medical student, who had found his way to 
 
 the diggings, and was making a rich harvest 
 
 of fees there, declared that his recovery was im- 
 possible. 
 
 Wilfred knew this, he said ; and I urged him to 
 see a missionary who was actively engaged, almost 
 day and night, in visiting the sick and dying, for 
 there was much sickness then at the diggings. 
 But the dying man refused to admit him. 
 
 The last day of his life came. He lay stretched 
 on a mat in his small tent gasping for breath, the 
 sun beating fiercely on the tent, and mosquitoes, 
 which I vainly endeavoured to drive aAvay, swarm- 
 ing around and tormenting him in his last 
 moments. Then he motioned to me to search in a 
 hiding-place in his tent, and I found a heavy bag
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 33 
 
 of gold and a roll of bank-notes. I did not know 
 till then that he was not as poor as I. 
 
 " I have sold my life for this," he said bitterly, 
 laying his almost powerless hand on the wealth, 
 " and now it is all over. I robbed you of fifteen 
 pounds, Mark ; take fifty and send the rest home 
 father mother mother." 
 
 These were his last words : they gurgled in his 
 throat : in another moment his head sank, his eyes 
 Ijecame fixed and glazed, there was a deep sigh, and 
 Wilfred Raikes was dead. 
 
 I combatted the temptation and I overcame it : 
 I can bless God now that he gave me strength to 
 resist and delivered me from the fearful sin. I 
 caused poor Wilfred's grave to be dug, and helped 
 to lay him in it. I wrote to his parents and 
 remitted to them all his money except the fifty 
 pounds he had given me. I breathed more freely 
 when it was gone, and then I resumed my labour. 
 
 I had been strengthened by the short respite, and 
 from that day I had some glimmerings of success. 
 A month later, and I was able to send to poor 
 Grace a hundred pounds as the first fruits of my 
 exertions. 
 
 And then came another long season of dis- 
 appointment and hope deferred, of sickness and
 
 34 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 weakness. I was no longer able to continue work- 
 ing, but God was merciful to me; he spared my 
 life, while hundreds around were stricken down 
 with fever, never to rise again. Yes, my life was 
 spared at that time, and I had strength given me 
 to retrace my steps to Melbourne. I was not abso- 
 lutely destitute, and I husbanded my resources, for 
 I determined that I would not give up the pursuit 
 of riches. I might have obtained employment at 
 Melbourne, but the spirit of chance gain-getting 
 was strong upon me, and I had no mind for labour 
 which promised only a moderate reward. So, 
 when my strength was recruited, I returned to the 
 
 diggings. 
 
 A few months afterward I had another letter 
 from Grace. I had been absent now two years, 
 and I was almost as far as ever from realizing my 
 feverish dreams. She implored me to return. She 
 had been ill, our children had been ill, and one 
 of them had been taken from her. But she could 
 bless God for this. Was it not in his infinite 
 mercy that he had taken away the suffering child 
 from the evil that was in the world? She felt 
 this, and she hoped she was able to say from her 
 heart, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
 away; blessed be the name of the Lord !"
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 35 
 
 I could not say this. The last time I had seen 
 the lost one our little Grace it was when she ran 
 after me and cried out, " You did not kiss me, fa- 
 ther !" putting up her little face to mine. I groaned 
 aloud. The remembrance of that kiss had always 
 haunted me, and now, now, I should never again 
 see the child ! 
 
 Grace's letter went on to thank me for the mo- 
 ney I had sent her. It had reached her when she 
 was in sore trouble, and it had given her relief. 
 Since then God had raised up friends for her. The 
 father of Wilfred Raikes had been very kind ; she 
 had now a comfortable home, and was able to pro- 
 vide for herself and our remaining children. She 
 wanted nothing more than that I should return. 
 " Dear Mark dear, dear husband, forget the gold ; 
 think only that you have a home, and a wife who 
 loves you above all things else in the world. Shall 
 we never meet again ? And oh, Mark, dear Mark, 
 if we are never to meet in this world, shall we 
 meet in another and a better ?" So my poor Grace 
 wrote. 
 
 My resolution was at length shaken. I would 
 labour six months longer, and then, rich or poor, 
 I would return. So I replied. 
 
 I redoubled my efforts. Six months passed away,
 
 36 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 and I was rich, but my health was destroyed I 
 was broken down in constitution and aged beyond 
 my years. 
 
 I was again on the way from the diggings 
 
 to Melbourne. I had purchased a horse for the 
 journey, and had sent on the greater part of my 
 money to one of the banks there. I was in my 
 miner's dress, and there was little in my appearance 
 to tempt the violence of bush-rangers, who I knew 
 at that time infested the road. 
 
 It was the dusk of evening, and I was hastening 
 on to a tavern which I knew had been raised by the 
 wayside in the midst of the wide wild waste on 
 which I had just entered, when a shot was fired, 
 followed by another and another. The first bullet 
 passed by me harmless, the second struck my bridle 
 arm, the third wounded the horse on which I rode. 
 That bullet probably saved my life, for before the 
 miscreants, who doubtless looked upon me as their 
 prey, could rush upon me, my poor animal plunged 
 and reared, and then galloped off furiously through 
 the darkening gloom. 
 
 I kept my seat, but could neither guide nor 
 check my poor companion, who pushed madly on 
 into the bush. I knew not how long this flight 
 lasted, for my senses were reeling ; and at length,
 
 THE GOLD-DIQGER. 37 
 
 exhausted by the pain of my wounded arm, I fell. 
 Then all was a blank. 
 
 The sun was risen when I had recovered my 
 senses, and I found myself in a wild and desolate 
 region, my head throbbing painfully and my 
 tongue parched with thirst. Worse than this, my 
 poor horse was gone, and I was utterly ignorant of 
 the course necessary to take to regain the road to 
 Melbourne. 
 
 Hours pased away, and I yet remained on the 
 same spot, helpless and despairing. I had heard 
 of travellers in these wilds who, having strayed 
 but a few paces from the beaten track, had perished 
 with hunger and thirst after days of wandering 
 in which they were unable to find the road they 
 had lost. I knew these tales to be true, and now, 
 after all my toils and struggles, and when I had in 
 some measure attained the object for which I had 
 abandoned home, wife and children, this was to be 
 the miserable end of all. I had found gold ; I had 
 gold with me, gold in Melbourne, and I was to 
 lie there, to die unheeded, to rot in the wilderness 
 till my bleached bones should some day arrest the 
 curiosity of some explorer, who would speculate on 
 my history and pass on. 
 
 Rain began to fall first a few drops, then a slight
 
 38 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 shower, then a heavy continuous storm. How did 
 I revel in that merciful, gracious rain ! small riv- 
 ulets began to flow, and with my uninjured hand I 
 dug a hole in the ground, and lay down to take 
 long and deep draughts of the muddy but precious 
 water which soon filled it. I renewed my draughts 
 again and again, and rose refreshed and strength- 
 ened. 
 
 " When the poor and needy seek water and there 
 is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the 
 Lord will hear them." I had not opened a Bible 
 for months, scarcely since leaving home, but I 
 remembered these words ; I knew they were some- 
 where in the Bible. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I AM penning these lines in Melbourne, but 
 while I write I have the welcome intelligence that 
 the ship will sail to-morrow. I must hurry on 
 board. All my preparations are soon made. I 
 have but little luggage to pack, and no friends to 
 regret my departure. My landlord scowls on me ; 
 perhaps he thinks I ought to have made him my 
 heir and executor, and then died ; but to-morrow I 
 shall be beyond his reach.
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 39 
 
 And I am going home toward home : shall I 
 ever reach it? I ask myself this question, oh how 
 often ! I dare not answer it ; for if I have 
 strength I will finish my story while on my voyage 
 home. 
 
 I have been a month out at sea. 
 
 God has been very merciful to me : let me ac- 
 knowledge his goodness. He has not dealt with 
 me according to my sins, nor rewarded me accord- 
 ing to my iniquities. 
 
 When I began to set down some of my adven- 
 tures I was in a troubled state of mind, full of 
 dread and anxiously looking forward to the day of 
 embarkation with nervous impatience, longing to 
 hurry toward home, though I should never reach 
 it. From that dread I have been delivered, and I 
 have been permitted to commence my voyage : the 
 distance is shortened every day takes me nearer 
 home. That I have not long to live is almost cer- 
 tain ; but if God should so far answer my prayers 
 as to spare me a little while longer for her sake 
 and theirs for poor Grace's and our children's I 
 shall think then that my work will be done. 
 
 My prayers ! I thank God that I can pray now. 
 In all the troubles I passed through I never dared
 
 40 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS, 
 
 or wished to lift up my soul to God ; but I can 
 pray now. 
 
 I was not cut off in hardened impenitence and 
 rebellion. I have seen the error of my ways. Let 
 me be humbled when I think of my follies and my 
 sins, and grateful when I think of the pardon 
 offered in the gospel for the greatest of sinners. 
 
 Yes, I can pray now. " When I kept silence " 
 I think I can use the language of the thirty- 
 second Psalm without presumption or hypocrisy 
 " when I kept silence my bones Avaxed old through 
 my roaring all the day long. For day and night 
 thy hand was heavy upon me : my moisture was 
 turned into the drought of summer. I acknow- 
 ledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I 
 not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions 
 unto the Lord ; and thou forgavest the iniquity of 
 my sin." 
 
 Yet, while I thankfully acknowledge this, let me 
 not forget that I have sinned, and that the con- 
 sequences of my guilt cling to me. I cannot 
 undo what has been done cannot call back, as 
 though it had not been, the misery I have in- 
 flicted on wife and children cannot bring back 
 health and strength to my wasted and perishing 
 body. I think often of these words, " Thou wast
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 41 
 
 a God that forgavest them, though thou tookest 
 vengeance of their inventions." My inventions 
 have yielded to me sorrow, pain and death. 
 
 Three days I wandered in the Australian bush, 
 striving vainly to find the beaten track I had left. 
 The wilderness was pathless, and the only sounds I 
 heard were the screams of parrots, intermingled 
 with the mocking tones of the laughing jackass.* 
 My wounded arm became increasingly inflamed 
 and painful, and augmented weakness crept upon 
 me. 
 
 Mercifully the rain which had fallen on the first 
 day of my wanderings had quenched my first burn- 
 ing thirst and filled numerous mud-holes in the 
 bush, which afterward scantily supplied my wants ; 
 but for this I must have perished. I had a small 
 bag of provisions with me, and this for two days 
 appeased, if not satisfied, my hunger. But on the 
 morning of the third day the last morsel of damper 
 was consumed, and a sullen spirit of defiance min- 
 gled with my anticipations of lingering death by 
 starvation there in the untenanted wilderness. 
 
 The sun was sinking low in the heavens. I had 
 been seated since noon on a heap of withered herb- 
 
 * A well-known bird in Australia, so called because of the 
 peculiarity of its note.
 
 42 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 age, when a bird alighted on a tree not many yards 
 distant, and gave promise of another meal if I 
 could but obtain it. I had with me a revolver 
 pistol, which I had for a long time carried for self- 
 defence. It might now prolong life a few hours, 
 and life is precious even to the miserable. 
 
 I drew the pistol from its resting-place and fired 
 at the bird. It was a vain attempt ; the bird rose 
 with a shrill scream and flew away unhurt. An- 
 grily and despairingly I threw the weapon on the 
 ground and sunk my head upon my knees. 
 
 But not for long. Suddenly I started to my feet 
 in a conflict of emotions, for faintly, and as though 
 from a far-off spot, I heard, or fancied I heard, the 
 clear tone of a human voice, in the prolonged 
 " coo-eh " of the Australian bush cry. 
 
 I could not answer, for my voice had almost lost 
 its power, but I snatched the pistol from the 
 ground, discharged another of its barrels, and an- 
 other and another, and then again I listened. 
 Again the shout came, but nearer this time, and 
 again yet nearer. The excitement of hope was 
 too mighty for me; I could bear no more I 
 swooned. 
 
 I have an indistinct remembrance of being gently 
 raised from the ground ; of a strong, wiry-framed
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 43 
 
 man supporting me on his knee and pouring some 
 liquid into my mouth, after sprinkling my face 
 with water ; of being lifted by him on to the sad- 
 dle of a horse, where he held me with one hand 
 while he guided the animal with the other; and of 
 thus traversing the bush for two or three miles, or 
 perhaps farther. 
 
 I remember, too, in an uncertain way, being as- 
 sisted to dismount by my preserver and conductor ; 
 but after this I recollect nothing more until I found 
 myself on a couch, my wounded arm dressed and 
 bound up, and heard the sound of voices in the 
 near neighbourhood of the humble room in which 
 I lay. 
 
 And then, when consciousness had returned and 
 my preserver made his appearance, I learned that I 
 had strayed far from the road I had lost, and that 
 he was a stock-keeper at a cattle-station. He had 
 heard the report of my pistol, and I had thus been 
 rescued from a lingering death by starvation in the 
 bush. 
 
 I will not lengthen this part of my history. I 
 was very ill ; fever had taken hold upon me, and 
 my hospitable host and his hut-keeper could do 
 little to alleviate my sufferings. Happily, their 
 employer's home farm was not many miles distant,
 
 44 RICHES WlTHOLf WIXGS. 
 
 and thither, after many days of pain and weari- 
 ness, I was removed. 
 
 " And you have passed through all these trials, 
 and have been once and again delivered from dan- 
 ger and from death, and have met with some of the 
 success for which you sacrificed so much, and yet, 
 amidst it all, your heart has been shut against God ! 
 Have you no gratitude ?" 
 
 I cannot describe the anxious solicitude with 
 which these words were spoken, and the gently 
 reproving way in which that question was asked. 
 Let me endeavour to recall the scene and the 
 occasion. 
 
 I was seated on a bench beneath the overhang- 
 ing roof of a small piazza which ran along the 
 front of a log farm-house. The bush around had 
 been partially cleared, but at no great distance was 
 nature in its original wildness : a narrow stream or 
 creek was visible in the valley below, and the water 
 glistened in the rays of the afternoon sunshine. I 
 was in extreme weakness, but fever had partially 
 left me, and for the first time after many weeks 
 of wearisome tossing on a sick bed I had resumed 
 my garments and tottered into the open air. 
 
 Beside me was my hostess and kind nurse, the
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 45 
 
 farmer's wife, and near her was her youngest 
 child, the very image, as I fondly yet painfully 
 imagined, of my lost little Grace. 
 
 I had been speaking of this loss, of my home in 
 England, of my wife. Step by step I had, for the 
 first time, been induced to break my sullen silence, 
 and my history was told to a sympathizing listener. 
 
 She was a Christian. Her husband was a Chris- 
 tian. In emigrating to the Australian bush two 
 or three years before they had not left religion 
 behind them. They feared and loved and served 
 God in the wilderness. Their name it matters 
 not their name, nor need I further give their his- 
 tory; it had been one of much sorrow, but they 
 had faith in God, and so it was one of many blessed 
 alleviations. 
 
 " Have you no gratitude ?" she asked. 
 
 "Anil not grateful to you to your husband ?" 
 I asked. " Oh do not say that I am ungrateful." 
 
 " I did not mean that," she replied ; " but what 
 matters that you are grateful to a fellow-creature 
 for a few poor kindnesses which may have been 
 shown, when you are rebellious against the God of 
 all your mercies ?" 
 
 " I do not know that I am rebellious," I said. 
 
 "Are you not rebellious?" she asked. "Does
 
 46 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 not your tone and manner, and all that you have 
 told me, prove that you are? Have you bowed 
 before God in resignation to his will, in thank- 
 fulness for his having spared you, and given you 
 some of your heart's desire, in penitence for your 
 sins? Are you willing now to give up every- 
 thing to Him your hard-earned gold, the hope 
 of seeing wife and children, life itself if it be his 
 will? And is not this rebellion? Do you not 
 murmur against him in your soul that he has taken 
 to himself the little one of whom you have been 
 speaking? And is this gratitude?" 
 
 Again, I say, I cannot describe how kindly and 
 gently and affectionately, yet how faithfully, the 
 Christian woman said this. I was silent, for I 
 felt her reproofs were deserved. 
 
 " And is it not, above all, rebellious and ungrate- 
 ful," she continued, "that while, in addition to all 
 besides, God has given the best of all his gifts 
 his dear Son as a Saviour you turn away from 
 the words of eternal life ? will not come to him that 
 you may have life? will not believe in him? will 
 not even think of his messages of mercy and 
 love?" 
 
 Still I was silent. How was I to reply to such 
 appeals ?
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 47 
 
 "Think how ill you are now," continued my 
 gentle reprover ; " how unlikely that you will re- 
 gain health and strength ; how near you may be to 
 eternity: think what will the gold you have 
 gathered avail you when you are on a bed of 
 death ; and yet you will not be reconciled to God ; 
 for are you not at enmity against him ?" 
 
 "If God is my enemy I cannot help it," I 
 muttered. 
 
 " But God is not your enemy, my poor friend," 
 she replied, eagerly. "You may be his, and he 
 not yours : and it was when we \vere enemies that 
 Christ died for us. This is the way in which God 
 shows and commends his love to sinners, such as 
 you and I; and yet you refuse his love. Will 
 nothing move you?" and the kind woman rose 
 and left me. 
 
 What a monster I seemed while this kind and 
 wise Christian woman was speaking, yet not so un- 
 grateful and rebellious as I have since felt, and as 
 I now feel myself to have been. My past life rose 
 in review my outward and manifest sinfulness 
 and my secret sins. I was alarmed too ; did my 
 hostess mean what she said when she spoke of my 
 nearness to death and the improbability of recov- 
 ery? or had she said that merely to alarm me?
 
 48 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 This could not be, for she was truthfulness itself. 
 Was I then so near dying? Faintness came over 
 me and agony of soul. 
 
 My head was buried in my hands and my 
 elbows were resting on my knees, when I felt a 
 gentle, hesitating touch which made me start. I 
 looked round, and by my side stood the little girl, 
 Margaret, the daughter of my hostess, who had 
 reminded me so painfully of my little Grace. She 
 looked up wistfully and anxiously into my face, 
 just as Grace had looked when she came running 
 after me and crying, " You did not kiss me, father." 
 The illusion was strong upon me then, and I put 
 my arm round the child's neck and kissed her fair 
 forehead. 
 
 Margaret drew herself away half frightened, 
 and then I perceived that in one hand she held a 
 small pocket Bible, open. 
 
 " Mother wants you to look at this," she whis- 
 pered, and she laid her finger on a verse which 
 had a fresh broad pencil mark placed against it in 
 the margin. And then she stole away timidly, 
 leaving the Bible on my knee. 
 
 I glanced at the verse. I read it again and 
 again : "And therefore will the Lord wait, that he 
 may be gracious unto you ; and therefore will he be
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 49 
 
 exalted, that he may have mercy upon you^ for 
 the Lord is a God of judgment : blessed are all 
 they that wait for him." 
 
 I carried the Bible with me into my little room 
 and shut myself in. 
 
 I remained a few more weeks at this home sta- 
 tion. I thank God that this resting-place was 
 granted me in the wilderness, and that he inclined 
 my heart to yield to the influence of Christian 
 love and faithfulness. Let me never forget the 
 deep agony of soul through which I passed when 
 all around me seemed sinking, vanishing, and I 
 left alone to endure the just anger of an offended 
 God when my iniquities seemed as though set 
 before him, and my secret sins in the light of his 
 countenance. And oh may I never forget the 
 ecstasy of gladness when the first whispers of 
 hope stole in upon me in the embracing of that 
 faithful saying, that " Christ Jesus came into the 
 world to save sinners" sinners even the chief of 
 sinners. 
 
 They thought me dying. Consumption had 
 taken hold of me. They told me so. Would I 
 not return home while yet I might be able? 
 
 I tore myself away arrived at Melbourne, 
 
 settled my affairs at the bank, sought lodgings. 
 4
 
 50 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 I will not dwell upon this. Darkness again fell 
 upon me. Those secret sins those secret sins ! 
 and the base desertion of my poor wife. What 
 fruit had I then in those things whereof I was 
 ashamed ? The wages of sin death ; but the gift 
 of God, eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 If it had not been for this I must have perished in 
 despair, but God has again lifted up upon me the 
 light of his countenance. I will bless him as long 
 as I live. 
 
 Home ! home ! in two months. 
 
 There was a small cottage in a quiet valley in 
 one of the midland counties of England. There 
 was a woman, yet young, but with traces of care 
 aud sorrow on her otherwise placid cheeks and 
 brow. There were two children, the younger four 
 years old. It was evening, a stormy evening in 
 spring (spring in England, autumn in Australia), 
 and a fire blazed cheerily on the hearth. 
 
 There was a gentle opening of the cottage-door ; 
 a shriek, half of terror and half of joy; a start- 
 ing from the seat; a wild delirium of gladncas ; 
 then a sudden revulsion. 
 
 " Dear, dear Mark ! but altered : oh how 
 altered !" 
 
 Altered : oh how altered ! The gold-digger had
 
 THE GOLD-DIGGER. 51 
 
 reached his home, to linger a few months, and then 
 to die a humble, contrite man the dream of 
 making haste to be rich, which had deluded 
 him, as it has done so many others, dissipated 
 for ever.
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN/ 
 
 "Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot 
 Bav| neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear." ISAIAH 
 lix. 1. 
 
 " The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth 
 much." JAMES v. 16. 
 
 HERE is a sad degree of infidelity in the 
 philosophical enlightenment and logical de- 
 ductions of which the nineteenth century is 
 so proud; and the contemptuous rejection 
 of all providential interposition by a dogmatic re- 
 * The following narrative will probably appear to most of 
 our readers so extraordinary that nothing short of the clearest 
 proofs of its authenticity will render it credible. The greatest 
 pains have been taken to sift the facts, and there is no doubt 
 of the strict accuracy of all the remarkable incidents detailed. 
 The narrative has already been published on the ppot where 
 the events happened, where it is accepted as a truthful record 
 of the wonderful interposition of God on behalf of his believ- 
 ing servant. It is an eloquent lesson to us on the manner in 
 which the Hearer of prayer still honours and rewards strong 
 faith in his promises and providence. 
 52
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 53 
 
 iteration of the cry that " the age of miracles is 
 past" which comes so readily to the lip of the 
 worldling would go far to establish the "fool's" 
 maxim that " there is no God," since it would de- 
 prive him of the divine prerogative of ruling the 
 world he hath made. That the age of such mira- 
 cles as were needful to evince the unlimited power 
 of the divine Saviour and to authenticate the mis- 
 sion of his ambassadors is now past, and hence that 
 the miracle-mongery of Rome is to be rejected as 
 imposture, we fully accord ; but such admission in 
 no way militates against the assumption that the 
 Supreme Being continues to direct the course of 
 human events, "turning" both the hearts and the 
 circumstances of men, " as the rivers of water, ac- 
 cording to the counsel of his own will." And by 
 parity of reasoning, it cannot invalidate the record 
 of many an aid opportunely aiforded at the hour 
 of their utmost need to those who, having " asked 
 in faith, believing that they should receive," ob- 
 tained such an answer as forced them to exclaim, 
 "This is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in our 
 eyes," albeit the means employed were not super- 
 natural, and the instruments of their deliverance 
 were neither angels iior ravens, but men of like 
 passions with themselves.
 
 54 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 To such as rejoice to believe that the God of our 
 fathers is still to us, as he was to them, a prayer- 
 hearing and a prayer-answering God, the following 
 authentic history of a truly remarkable providen- 
 tial interposition will prove faith-invigorating, and 
 may by God's blessing even induce some hitherto 
 careless child of Adam to turn to Him who said, 
 " Ask, and ye shall receive that your joy may be 
 full." 
 
 John Daniel Loest, the subject of this narrative, 
 was born on the 28th of March, 1759, of poor but 
 pious parents, who trained up their children in the 
 fear of the Lord, and took care that they should 
 from very early years be instructed in the Scrip- 
 tures. Under the influence of such training the 
 faith which had dwelt in his progenitors took firm 
 root and bore fair fruit in Daniel, who, as we learn 
 from a short history of his life published in 1855 
 by the Berlin Religious Tract Society, was noted 
 even in early youth for a blameless life and unwa- 
 vering profession of the truth as it is in Jesus. 
 
 The Lord so prospered him in his worldly cir- 
 cumstances that by steady industry he raised him- 
 self to rank with the most respectable tradesmen in 
 Berlin, where he kept a well-frequented fringe and 
 trimming shop. Fervent in spirit and diligent in
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 55 
 
 business, Mr. Loest was also willing to communi- 
 cate to such as stood in need of his help; and 
 although neither injudicious nor indiscriminating, 
 his well-known benevolence and peculiar prompt- 
 ness to do good to the "household of faith" ren- 
 dered him occasionally the prey of designing hypo- 
 crites, who assumed the mien and language of piety 
 the more surely to win the good man's confidence. 
 Yet he seems to have been on the whole a man of 
 readiness and energy, judging by the following 
 anecdote. 
 
 One day a man whom Mr. Loest knew to bear 
 a fair worldly character, but with whom he had 
 previously held no intercourse, came to him with 
 the urgent entreaty to accommodate him with the 
 loan of two hundred thalers (thirty pounds sterling) 
 for a short time, asserting that, his distress being 
 only temporary, he could promise repayment with 
 certainty within a few days. 
 
 Loest hesitated. He had, as it happened, the re- 
 quired sum lying at that moment in his desk, but 
 he could not spare it long from his business. The 
 borrower painted his difficulties in lively colours, 
 dextrously using the language not only of an up- 
 right but of a religious man ; and Loest, who prob- 
 ably remembered the admonition, "Say not unto
 
 56 RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 thy neighbour go and come again, when thou hast 
 it by thee," paid down the desired sum. 
 
 As the borrower left the room, Loest's judgment 
 rebelled against the award of his feelings, and he 
 began to reproach himself with imprudence in con- 
 fiding so considerable a sum to one of whom per- 
 sonally he knew so little. In the same moment 
 his maid-servant burst into the room and asked, 
 " Master, what was the business that man had with 
 you ?" 
 
 Loest replied by another question, " Why do you 
 ask?" 
 
 "Because," said she, "I heard him say as he 
 passed through the lobby, ' I am glad to have got 
 it; hjednay see how he'll ever get it back again.'" 
 
 Loest took the hint, and, throwing open the win- 
 dow, called out to his debtor, who had just reached 
 
 the street, "Pray, Mr. , come here again just 
 
 for one moment." 
 
 Unsuspicious of any sinister change (as he had 
 not seen the servant, who was in a dark closet off 
 the lobby, and consequently dreamed not of having 
 been overheard), the man complied with Loest's 
 request, who, on his re-entering the room, begged 
 leave to count over the money again. The rouleaux 
 were accordingly laid on the table, and Loest no
 
 THE BELFEVING TRADESMAN. 57 
 
 sooner Had them fairly in his grasp than, looking 
 upward, he repeated with slow and distinct utter- 
 ance, " I am glad to have got it ; he may see how 
 he'll ever get it back again." 
 
 Conscience-stricken and confounded by hearing 
 his own words thus repeated, without a clue to 
 guide him as to how they had come to Loest's 
 knowledge, the intending defrauder shrunk speech- 
 less and moneyless from the chamber ; while Loest, 
 after thanking God fervently for this wonderful 
 preservation from what would have been to him a 
 great loss, hastened to his most intimate Christian 
 
 friend A to tell him of this new proof of the 
 
 Lord's providential care. 
 
 In this incident there was no miracle, .but as- 
 suredly there was an intervention; and could a 
 modern philosopher have deprived Loest of this 
 conviction, and consequently of his grateful sense 
 of a divine benevolence exerted in his behalf, he 
 would assuredly, to accommodate the words of the 
 great dramatic bard, have "robbed him of that 
 which not enriched him, but left Loest poor in- 
 deed." 
 
 But we must now proceed to relate the still more 
 astonishing interposition of which Loest was, in 
 after life, privileged to be the object, and of which
 
 58 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 he could never speak without tears of gratitude 
 and joy. 
 
 Baron von Kottwitz, then so well known 
 throughout Prussia as the unwearied and judicious 
 benefactor of the poor Silesian handloom weavers, 
 and indeed as the ready seconder of every Chris- 
 tian undertaking, called one day on Mr. Loest, say- 
 ing that he had been requested to try to interest 
 him in favour of a Christian lady of good property, 
 but who was at the moment thrown into great dis- 
 tress and perplexity by an obstinate and wrong- 
 headed creditor, who would assuredly plunge her 
 in an expensive lawsuit unless she were enabled 
 instantly to settle his demand. The baron further 
 
 stated that Mr. S , a well-known attorney-at- 
 
 law, who was well acquainted with all the circum- 
 stances of the case, had assured him that there was 
 not the smallest risk in becoming security for the 
 lady, whose temporary embarrassment was merely 
 the result of chicane, so that one or two respectable 
 signatures would suffice to rescue the victim, while 
 the money would never be called for, her own fund 
 being in all likelihood available before the bond 
 could fall due. 
 
 Loest went, according to the baron's advice, to 
 Attorney S , whom he found seated before a
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 59 
 
 large open Bible. Loest was agreeably surprised 
 
 to find Mr. S so employed, for a Christian 
 
 lawyer was then to the full as rare as a Christian 
 tradesman. Mr. Attorney, however, took pains to 
 convince his visitor that the present was no chance 
 consultation of the sacred volume, of which he pro- 
 fessed himself a diligent student. On stating the 
 object of his visit, Loest was informed by the at- 
 torney that the baron's statements were all perfectly 
 correct that he was himself personally acquainted 
 with the position of the lady's property that there 
 was not a shadow of risk in going security for her 
 and that he, the attorney, would within a very 
 short time discharge every demand against her if 
 she were but freed from this unreasonably clamor- 
 ous creditor. 
 
 The solemn assurances of a Bible-reading lawyer 
 satisfied every scruple, and Loest put down his 
 name for six hundred thalers, or about ninety 
 pounds sterling. 
 
 Months elapsed without any further reference to 
 this affair, when suddenly Mr. Loest was most un- 
 pleasantly reminded of it by receiving an order of 
 court to pay in on the following Tuesday the six 
 hundred thalers for which he had become security, 
 under penalty of execution. Loest now remem-
 
 60 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 bered with keen self-accusations the warning given 
 by the wisest of men in Proverbs xi. 15. He now 
 discovered, though, alas ! too late to escape from the 
 snare, that both the baron and he had been design- 
 edly mystified, and that the estates of the lady were 
 hopelessly sunk in debt; while nothing remained 
 for him but to bring together by hook or by crook 
 the six hundred thalers before the following 
 Tuesday. 
 
 Now, our Christian friend had ever borne the 
 character of a " man diligent in his business," and 
 as such he was well accredited by his fellow-citi- 
 zens. Moreover, his personal circumstances were 
 such as to enable him to bear the loss of six hun- 
 dred thalers, if loss it should ultimately prove. 
 But to provide on the instant for so unexpected a 
 payment was not easy, and the less so as, unfor- 
 tunately, he had just accepted a bill for three hun- 
 dred thalers, which was to fall due on the ensuing 
 Saturday. His first thought in his perplexity was 
 to hurry off to a rich friend (who had already 
 helped him on in business by the loan of five hun- 
 dred thalers), hoping that he could assist him out 
 of this new dilemma. On his way, however, to 
 this friend's house, he stumbled on another ac- 
 quaintance, who had lent him four hundred thalers
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 61 
 
 under a mere note of hand ; and lie saluted him 
 with the news that he must beg for repayment of 
 that sum on the following Friday, as he required 
 it to pay for a parcel of goods of which he had just 
 received the invoice, and which would arrive that 
 day. 
 
 " You shall have it," said Loest, as he hurried 
 on to find the friend on whose help he so confi- 
 dently relied. 
 
 The friend is at home, but before Loest can 
 speak his errand, he hears himself addressed with 
 the words : " It is lucky you are come, my friend, 
 for I was just going to send to you to request you 
 will make provision to pay me back the five hun- 
 dred thalers you owe me, for I must needs have it 
 on Wednesday to pay off a mortgage on my house 
 which has just been called up." 
 
 "You shall have it," replied Loest in a calm 
 voice, though his heart became heavier every mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Suddenly it occurred to him that a merchant 
 with whom he had been on very intimate terms, 
 and who had recently died, was the possessor of a 
 very large floating capital. If not already dis- 
 posed of, the widow might be inclined to help 
 him ; and he immediately determined to ascertain
 
 62 RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 how she felt on the subject. But, alas ! disappoint- 
 ments thickened upon him. Loest already owed 
 the deceased five hundred thalers by bill, and three 
 hundred thalers for goods delivered.* The bill 
 was already expired, and, as often happens between 
 friends, had not been renewed ; and now, unluck- 
 ily, it, along with all other papers belonging to the 
 deceased, had been placed in the hands of his trus- 
 tees, who had no choice but to act for the family as 
 the law directed. The consequence was, that soon 
 after Loest entered the room where the widow was 
 seated, she handed him an order from the court of 
 trustees, under which he was bound to pay up the 
 five hundred thalers' bill on Thursday, ad depos- 
 itum ; " and," continued the lady before the poor 
 man had time to utter a word, " I would earnestly 
 entreat you to pay the other three hundred thalers 
 early on Saturday to me, for there are accounts 
 constantly pouring in on me, and the funeral ex- 
 penses." Here her voice faltered ; and her visitor, 
 
 * That our friend had so many debts must not prejudice him 
 in the estimation of the reader. His engagements did not ex- 
 ceed his real property : in goods and other bills he possessed 
 much more than he owed ; but the essence of trade in Prussia 
 consisted in credit, so that the honester and more active the 
 trader, the more extensive his credit and the more numerous 
 his creditors would be.
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 63 
 
 after answering in a low voice, " It shall be cared 
 for/' withdrew, without having uttered one word 
 on the business which had taken him thither. 
 
 Thus wave following on wave oppressed, but did 
 not overwhelm, the hope of this believer ; for the 
 higher they rose and the louder they surged, the 
 more assured did he feel that they were among the 
 " all things" appointed for his good ; and the firmer 
 grew his conviction that, end how and when it 
 might, the trial would be made, in God's wonder- 
 working hand, to subserve the glory of his great 
 name. Yet he was obliged to look his position 
 calmly in the face. How stood it? 
 
 To seek the loan of six hundred thalers had been 
 the design with which he that morning left his 
 house ; and should he now return to it his engage- 
 ments for the following week must be entered thus : 
 six hundred thalers to be paid on Tuesday, five 
 hundred on Wednesday, five hundred on Thursday, 
 four hundred on Friday, three hundred on Satur- 
 day morning and three hundred on Saturday after- 
 noon : in all, two thousand six hundred thalers. 
 It was already Saturday, and his purse contained 
 something under four thalers (twelve shillings ster- 
 ling) ! What was to be done ? There was one 
 chance left, and he resolved, though with a heavy
 
 64 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 heart, to try it. It was to go to a rich money- 
 lender, to whom his circumstances were perfectly 
 well known, and who, he could not doubt, would 
 readily advance him a couple of thousand thalers 
 not for friendship indeed, but for six or seven per 
 cent. 
 
 But even here he was doomed to find he had 
 reckoned without his host. Dearly as the usurer 
 loved to make money, there was unhappily some- 
 thing he loved still better namely, the indulgence 
 of his enmity to the Christian faith. The cheerful 
 Christianity and the unworldly industry of the 
 believing tradesman had long been a thorn in the 
 side of this bad man ; and it was with a half smile 
 of anticipated triumph on his sinister features that 
 he asked, not without a perceptible shade of irony 
 in his tone, as our friend entered, " What can have 
 procured for me the honour of a visit from Mr. 
 Daniel Loest?" 
 
 "I have the prospect of having some money 
 
 difficulties in the coming week, Mr. N ," began 
 
 his visitor, " and " But he could get no farther. 
 
 "You in money difficulties, or any difficulties, 
 
 Mr. Loest!" interrupted Mr. N ; "I cannot 
 
 believe it ! It is altogether impossible ! You are 
 at all times and in all places boasting that you
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 65 
 
 have such a rich and loving MASTER ! why don't 
 you apply to him now?" and the usurer's lip 
 curled with scarcely-concealed pleasure at having 
 found an opportunity of taunting a Christian. 
 
 The random shaft had done its mission. " You 
 are right, and I am wrong," said Loest, in reply. 
 " I beg your pardon for my unwarrantable intru- 
 sion on your time ;" and so saying, he turned and 
 went his way. 
 
 The scorner had indeed hit the nail on the head, 
 and though he meant not so, he had been made use 
 of to recall God's erring child to a sense of his 
 duty. He felt that God had spoken to him even 
 by these unclean lips, and a wondrous light and 
 calm diffused themselves over his heart. With 
 cheerful steps he hastened home. Arrived there, 
 his first act was to throw himself on his knees and 
 implore forgiveness from his Saviour and his Helper 
 in many a former trial for having on this occasion, 
 instead of seeking the Fountain of mercy, turned 
 for relief to a succession of broken cisterns which 
 could hold no water. 
 
 Strengthened, refreshed and consoled, he arose 
 from his knees. The following Sunday was indeed 
 a Sabbath of rest to his soul, in which, by casting 
 all his burdens on the Lord, he enjoyed "that
 
 CG ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 peace which the world can neither give nor take 
 away." Disordered in body by the severe mental 
 conflicts of the previous day, he felt wholly dis- 
 abled from joining in the public services of the 
 sanctuary; but he was truly "in the Spirit" on 
 that "Lord's day," and in soul-communion with 
 God he spent the hours of sacred rest, confiding to 
 no other ear the anxiety which had pressed on his 
 mind and the desire which still rose in his heart 
 namely, to "render to all their dues." 
 
 Long a widower, there was none to whom as to 
 a second self he felt bound to communicate his 
 feelings, and neither to his aged sister, who kept 
 house for him, nor to their equally aged and Chris- 
 tian-minded domestic, did he think it right to con- 
 vey any portion of the uneasiness he had gone 
 through. He knew and felt assured that "the 
 Lord would provide." 
 
 Cheerfully he arose on the Monday morning, and 
 ere yet his toilette was completed he noted with 
 great surprise that both his sister and the assistant 
 seemed, notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, 
 to have full as much as they could do in serving 
 customers and making up parcels, and he a;cord- 
 ingly hastened into the shop to give them 'issiat- 
 ince. And thus it continued the wholt dav !
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 67 
 
 Never in all his experience could Loest remember 
 such a ceaseless stream of customers as poured on 
 that memorable Monday into his rather out-of-the- 
 way shop. Cooking dinner was out of the ques- 
 tion : neither mistress nor maid had time for that. 
 Coffee and bread, taken by each in turn, served in- 
 stead of the accustomed meal ; and still the cus- 
 tomers came and went; still three pairs of hands 
 were in requisition to satisfy their wants. 
 
 Nor was it for new purchases only that money 
 came in. More than one long-outstanding account, 
 accompanied by excuses for delayed payment and 
 assurances that it had not been possible to settle it 
 sooner, enlarged the contents of the till ; and the 
 honest-hearted debtor on whom this unwonted 
 stream of money flowed in was tempted every 
 minute to call out, "It is the Lord !" 
 
 At length night came, when Loest and his liter- 
 ally worn-out assistants, after having poured out 
 their hearts in thankful adoration at family prayer, 
 sat down to the first meal they had that day en- 
 joyed in common. It was probably not luxurious, 
 but surely it was a much-relished one ; and when 
 it had been quietly partaken of, the brother and 
 sister set themselves to count over the money which 
 had that day been taken. Each hundred thalers
 
 68 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 was set by itself, and the result showed six hundred 
 and three thalcrs, fourteen silver grosehcn. Thus 
 the ninety pounds required for the next day's pay- 
 ment were provided, with ten shillings and eight- 
 pence over, being a somewhat less surplus than 
 what remained in hand on the previous Saturday 
 night. 
 
 " Oh what a wondrous God is ours !" exclaimed 
 Loest, while tears of grateful emotion filled his 
 eyes (as they never failed to do every time that in 
 after life he recounted this remarkable passage of 
 his Christian experience) " what a wondrous God 
 is ours ! who, in the government of this great uni- 
 verse, does not overlook my mean affairs nor for- 
 get his gracious promise: 'Call upon me in the 
 day of trouble, I will deliver thee/ which has this 
 day been so remarkably fulfilled in me ! How 
 countless must be the host of his ministering ser- 
 vants, seen and unseen, since he can employ some 
 hundreds of them with the commissions, 'Buy this 
 or that of Daniel Loest to-day,' or ' Pay him that 
 long-standing bill, for which I have now given 
 thee the means.' Oh that I may be enabled 
 henceforth to glorify him !" 
 
 Tuesday witnessed a repetition of Monday's con- 
 course, and the five hundred thalers required by
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 69 
 
 his friend to pay off the mortgage on his house 
 were ready on demand on Wednesday. That day's 
 sale provided the five hundred thalers which must 
 be paid on Thursday into the court of trustees; 
 and Thursday's customers brought the four hun- 
 dred thalers which his friend had reclaimed for 
 Friday, in order to pay for his then-to-be-delivered 
 goods ; and Friday's contingent put it in Loest's 
 power to pay the widow early on Saturday morn- 
 ing the three hundred thalers she needed to settle 
 the unpostponable demands for funeral expenses, 
 etc. In Loest's eyes the most miraculous circum- 
 stance perhaps of this miraculous week was the 
 striking fact that, while a daily supply commen- 
 surate with the daily recurring need was granted, 
 there never remained any greater surplus than that 
 with which it commenced, the cash in hand varying 
 from three to five dollars. 
 
 On the Saturday morning at which our relation 
 has now arrived, when the messenger departed with 
 the three hundred thalers for the widow, our friend 
 remained with precisely two thalers twenty silver 
 groschen (six shillings and eightpence sterling), the 
 smallest balance he had yet had ; and what seemed 
 more alarming, the rush to the shop appeared to be 
 entirely over ; for whereas during the five days past
 
 70 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 he had scarcely had time to draw his breath from 
 hurry and bustle, he was now left in the most un- 
 disturbed possession of his time. Not a single 
 customer appeared. The wants of the vicinity 
 seemed to have come to an end, for not a child en- 
 tered to fetch a pennyworth of thread nor a few 
 ells of tape, so that the present cessation of all de- 
 mand was quite as much out of the accustomed 
 shop routine as the previous rush of custom had 
 been. 
 
 Hour after hour passed, but no occupation inter- 
 fered with the boding leisure to which the master 
 of that lately so busy scene was now condemned. 
 Three o'clock came, and still there was but six 
 shillings and eightpence in the till, while the anx- 
 ious debtor knew full well that the same clock 
 would not strike four without the step of the clerk 
 being heard, who ought then to receive payment 
 of the three hundred thalers which would wind up 
 the payments of that remarkable week. Unbelief 
 would have said, " If the Lord would make win- 
 dows in heaven, might this thing be." But Loest 
 sat still and in his " patience possessed his soul," 
 for he knew the Lord's time was the best time, and 
 he desired to be found waiting at his mercy-seat. 
 And yet this last was a sore trial, for should the
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 71 
 
 clerk be sent away empty-handed, the tradesman's 
 commercial character would be essentially injured, 
 his credit shaken, if not annihilated; and, worse 
 than that, the man Avho had endorsed the bill after 
 him must pay in his stead; and Loest groaned in 
 spirit as he remembered how ill able that friendly 
 endorser was to bear more than his own engage- 
 ments. 
 
 We left Loest in the crisis of a most painful sus- 
 pense, watching the lapse of time that was bring- 
 ing nearer and nearer the hour that would seal his 
 commercial dishonour. The clock chimed one 
 quarter past three ; then half past; still was there 
 no money in the house nor prospect of any, for 
 every outstanding debt of any considerable amount 
 had come in during the five past days, and Loest 
 had full leisure to count the fleeting moments, each 
 one bringing nearer the appearance of his assuredly 
 punctual creditor. Yes, this was a sore trial, but 
 it did not overwhelm him; he could still "pray to 
 the God of heaven." He could still breathe forth, 
 " If this cup may not pass away from me, except I 
 drink it, thy will be done !" 
 
 Again the warning voice of time was heard, in- 
 dicating three quarters past three o'clock, and im-
 
 72 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 mediately after a gentle tap was heard at the door 
 of the counting-room to which Loest had retired. 
 In reply to his " Come in," appeared a little old 
 woman, who asked eagerly, "Is Mr. Loest within?" 
 
 u Yes, my good woman, as you see. What do 
 you want with me?" 
 
 " Oh, sir," replied she, half in a whisper, " you 
 see I live here close by, quite alone in a cellar ; 
 and I have had a few thalers paid to me, and now 
 I want to beg of you, sir, if you would be so good 
 as to keep them for me. I have not slept one 
 night since I have had them ; it is a great charge 
 for a lone woman like me." 
 
 " Right willingly will I keep them for you, and 
 pay interest too," said Loest. 
 
 "Oh no, no; don't speak a word of interest, 
 sir !" cried the old woman ; " but if you are pleased 
 to remain a few minutes within, I'll bring the 
 money in a twinkling." 
 
 " But at all events you must have a receipt, my 
 good woman ; we are all liable to die, you know," 
 said Loest, smiling. " For what sum shall I write 
 you an acknowledgment ?" 
 
 " Oh, it is only a trifle of three hundred thalers, 
 sir," cried the woman as she hurried off ; and be- 
 fore the ink was dry on the receipt Loest wrote out
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 73 
 
 for her, there she was again and deposited six rou- 
 leaux of fifty thalers each on his table. 
 
 With her receipt in her pocket, and many ex- 
 pressions of thanks for the favour done her, the 
 old woman departed ; and just as she left the 
 house the expectant clerk with his bill ready dis- 
 charged in his hand entered it, received the six 
 rouleaux and departed, leaving Loest speechless 
 with amazement at all the great things the Lord 
 had done for him. 
 
 But the story is not yet ended. True, all pre- 
 sent difficulties were removed, but any one at all 
 acquainted with trade knows that it is no trifle for 
 a small capitalist to reduce his stock in one week 
 by two thousand six hundred thalers. The late 
 run on the shop had lessened the contents of the 
 warehouse to an unprecedented extent. Even old 
 patterns and articles, which had been looked upon 
 as old shopkeepers for ten or fifteen years, were 
 gone. The shelves and drawers were so empty 
 that the sales must of necessity suffer interruption 
 unless a fresh supply of goods could be imme- 
 diately laid in, and Loest had no funds at command 
 for the purpose. Yet it is more than probable that 
 this anticipated dilemma never occurred to the 
 mind of Daniel Loest at this time, his whole soul
 
 74 RICHES WITHOUT WlNGS. 
 
 being filled with thankfulness to Him who giveth 
 more than we can ask or think. He slept on the 
 night of that Saturday which had, with its unusual 
 stillness, crowned a week of such unusual bustle, a 
 sound and childlike sleep of serenity and content- 
 ment, such as had not visited his eyelids during the 
 preceding week, and rose refreshed and invigorated 
 to enjoy with tenfold relish the public services of 
 that Lord's day, on which he could so truly adopt 
 the works of the Psalmist : " Bless the Lord, O my 
 soul, and forget not all his benefits ! Who forgiv- 
 eth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy dis- 
 eases; w r ho redeemeth thy life from destruction; 
 who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and ten- 
 der mercies ; who satisfieth thy mouth with good 
 things, so that thy youth is renewed like the 
 eagle's." Doubtless he that day cast all his bur- 
 den on the Lord, and he was not left long with- 
 out proof that the Lord " cared for him." 
 
 Next morning Loest received a visit from a mer- 
 chant named Richter, a native of Reichenbach, in 
 Silesia, who told him that, being obliged by family 
 affairs to return to his native place, he was desirous 
 to get rid of his business in Berlin, and had there- 
 fore come to ask Loest if he would take the con- 
 tents of his warehouse off his hands.
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 75 
 
 " Willingly, if I could pay for it," replied the 
 now experience- taught believer ; " but that, I must 
 candidly own to you, I cannot do at present." 
 
 " There is no occasion that you should," was the 
 reply. " I do not ask any money down. I know 
 your character, and will not even fix a time of pay- 
 ment, perfectly satisfied with your assurance to pay 
 me when you conveniently can." 
 
 The contents of the warehouse were accordingly 
 examined, valued and duly delivered over to Mr. 
 Loest, whose shop was immediately stored with a 
 greater quantity and variety of goods than it ever 
 held before ; and, partly from receiving unusually 
 large orders and partly from a rise in prices, Loest 
 was not only enabled to pay his debt to Mr. Rich- 
 ter within a much shorter period than either of 
 them had anticipated, but he found himself in great 
 measure reinstated in the possession of the sum of 
 which he had been defrauded by the security-im- 
 posture. 
 
 Is any one disposed to deem the tale we have 
 told as highly coloured at least, if not a pure in- 
 vention ? To such we reply that, remarkable in 
 the highest degree as the circumstances unquestion- 
 ably are, they rest on the testimony of a well-ap- 
 proved disciple of Christ, backed by that of many
 
 76 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 to whom the facts were well known at the time in 
 Berlin, " for this thing was not done in a corner," 
 nor has the printed statement concerning it been 
 ever contradicted. 
 
 On the other hand, should any one be inclined 
 to ask with a sneer (as one did of old concerning 
 Job), " Did Daniel Loest serve God for naught ?" 
 we fearlessly answer, Assuredly not, for no one 
 ever does. God says to every one now, as in former 
 days, "Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of 
 hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, 
 and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be 
 room enough to receive it." But, nevertheless, the 
 obtaining of worldly advantages must not be our 
 motive for serving the Lord. He who attempts to 
 make "a gain of godliness" shall find that such 
 godliness is no gain ; but if we seek first the king- 
 dom of God and his righteousness, then assuredly 
 the word of truth will be fulfilled to us : " All 
 these things shall be added unto you, for your 
 heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of 
 these things." 
 
 Perchance, too, if all the servants of God were 
 strictly to review their past lives, there would be 
 many more providential interpositions to record 
 than the world wots of: at all events, happy is he
 
 THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN. 77 
 
 who learns from God's providential care over him 
 to exclaim with Daniel Loest, " Thy testimonies 
 are wonderful, therefore doth my soul keep them;" 
 and who in times of deepest trial can also say, 
 " I will be anxious about nothing, for surely my 
 God will supply all my need, according to his 
 riches in glory by Christ Jesus."
 
 POOR PEARSON. 
 
 [HEN Frank Graham, of Upper Grange 
 Farm, was a young man, he was brought, 
 in a very simple way and by apparently 
 very inefficient means, to a knowledge of the 
 religion of Jesus. He died at an advanced age, 
 after a life of active usefulness ; and he often told 
 the following story : 
 
 " When I first took the Upper Grange Farm," 
 said he, " I was not only gay and thoughtless, but 
 as bitter and bigoted against the religion of the 
 Bible as ignorance and prejudice could make me, 
 and as thoughtlessness and a tolerably easy temper 
 would permit me to be. My case was not a sin- 
 gular one ; the village was a dark, benighted place, 
 the poor were sottish and brutal, and their em- 
 ployers set them the example of dissipation and 
 folly. 
 
 " But as there was one righteous Lot to be found 
 even in the vile city of Sodom, so there was one 
 
 78
 
 . POOR rz ARSON. 79 
 
 pious, godly man in the village of S . This 
 
 was a little humpbacked, stammering fellow, Pear- 
 son by name, and by trade a shoemaker. lie was 
 a toil-worn, care-worn man, and poor ; for though 
 he had no family of his own, not even a wife, he 
 was the sole support of his parents, one of whom 
 was blind. 
 
 " Pearson's religion did not apparently help him 
 
 on in the world. It could scarcely do this in S 
 
 without a miracle, for it kept from him the custom 
 of almost all the families in the village who had it 
 in their power to supply him with profitable work, 
 but who declared that they would have nothing to 
 do with such a Methodist as he. He had there- 
 fore to travel many miles round the country, at the 
 expense of much time and labour, to obtain employ- 
 ment ; and he often did this unsuccessfully. 
 
 " Apart from his poverty, which was, I believe, 
 one of his lightest burdens, Pearson had cause 
 enough for care and grief. Like Lot, he was daily 
 vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked ; 
 he was bitterly persecuted, too, on account of his 
 religion by his ungodly neighbours ; and, above all 
 else, poor Pearson was in constant concern for the 
 souls of his parents, who, while depending on their 
 son for shelter and support, ridiculed his piety and
 
 80 RICHES WITHOUT WISGS. 
 
 reproached him with his poverty. By God's mercy, 
 however, a blessed change seemed to be wrought 
 in them before they died ; their ignorance was in 
 part removed, and they tremblingly, as there was 
 reason to believe, ' fled for refuge to lay hold on the 
 hope set before us.' 
 
 "How poor Pearson himself had been rescued 
 from the slavery of sin, I cannot say ; it is more to 
 the purpose to know that he lived a consistent and 
 holy life ; so that, much as he was despised, there 
 was none occasion to be found against him, except 
 it was found against him concerning the law of his 
 God. 
 
 "Among the causes of reproach against him, 
 one was that he went every Sunday to a place of 
 worship in a neighbouring town, the nearest to our 
 village. His conduct was a tacit reproof to the 
 neighbours, who spent their Sundays in a very 
 different manner, and they resented it accordingly 
 by doing mischief to the poor shoemaker's flower- 
 border, of which he was very fond, and robbing his 
 garden of fruits and vegetables during his absence. 
 The persecuted and injured man seldom complained 
 of these outrages, and never threatened. But 
 neither was he deterred from his Sabbath-day 
 journeys.
 
 POOR PEARSON. 81 
 
 " Such was poor Pearson, then, when I, a young 
 married man, went to live at the village, and as 
 soon as I heard his character, told in no friendly 
 mood, I determined to have nothing to do with 
 him. It was difficult, however, to keep to this 
 resolution entirely, for in addition to his shoemak- 
 ing craft, Pearson was the occasional errand-man 
 of the village, which, being at some distance 
 from the nearest town, needed some such mode of 
 intercommunication. It happened, therefore, that 
 his occasional journeys were turned to account by 
 the villagers, who, much as they disliked him for 
 his religion, were glad to make use of him to suit 
 their own convenience, for Pearson was good-na- 
 tured, and it could not be denied that he was honest 
 also. 
 
 " I had been two or three years at S when 
 
 one fine evening I saw the poor shoemaker turning 
 out of the road and crossing the meadow toward 
 Upper Grange Farm, with a parcel under his arm. 
 I took no notice of this at the time, but walked 
 away to avoid speaking to him. A quarter of an 
 hour afterward I returned home, and, passing 
 through the hall, who should be there but 
 Pearson? I moved on hastily and entered the 
 parlour, and there I found my wife fitting on a pair
 
 82 ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 of new shoes, with others strewing the table. This 
 made me angry. 
 
 " * Mary/ said I, ' I ara surprised you should be 
 having shoes of that Methodist fellow ! There are 
 
 plenty of shoes to be got in D , I should think, 
 
 and you know that I have declared I will not have 
 anything to do with him/ 
 
 " ' I know all about that, Frank/ said my wife, 
 'and I never had any dealings with Pearson, 
 though they do say he is the best and cheapest and 
 neatest shoemaker in all the country round, if he 
 could but get work enough to do. However, I 
 don't want to encourage him, I am sure.' 
 
 " I pointed to the shoes on the table. ' I sup- 
 pose you don't call that encouraging him/ I said ; 
 'and I insist ' 
 
 " ' There ! hold your tongue, do, Frank/ said 
 Mary, interrupting me and speaking pettishly 
 for though we had not been very long married, we 
 had had a good many matrimonial jars, and we 
 had learned to speak up sharply when we crossed 
 one another's way. ' You had better/ Mary went 
 on, 'be going and looking after your men, and 
 leave me to mind my own business.' 
 
 " ' This is my business as well as yours, Mary/ 
 I answered with a good deal of temper; 'and I
 
 POOH PEARSON. 83 
 
 won't allow you to have your shoes made by that 
 Methodist fellow/ 
 
 " ' You won't, eh ?' said my wife, rather cross. 
 c Well now, Frank, I don't know how you are to 
 hinder me if I have a mind. But it is not worth 
 while to quarrel about it ; and so you may as well 
 know where these shoes did come from ;' and she 
 pushed across the table to me a bill which had on 
 
 it the name of a shoemaker in D , with the 
 
 prices set down. 
 
 "'Oh, that is another thing,' said I, rather 
 sheepishly ; ' but what has Pearson to do with it. 
 then ? and what is he waiting for in the hall ?' 
 
 " ' Why, he brought them for me, to be sure/ 
 said Mary. ' I gave him the order this morning. 
 
 and told him to be sure not to come from D 
 
 without them ; and he is waiting to take back what 
 I do not keep. And now you know it all, I hope 
 you are the better for it, Mr. Frank Graham,' she 
 added, tapping my elbow playfully with one of the 
 shoes; for I will do my Mary the justice to say 
 that though she liked to have a last word some- 
 times, she never pushed me too hard when she did 
 get it. 
 
 " So I said no more, but took up the newspaper 
 and left Mary to attend to her own affairs in her
 
 84 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 own way. Mary took a good while to fit herself to 
 her mind, and then she opened the door and called 
 poor Pearson, who humbly bowed as he hesita- 
 tingly entered the parlour, and halting, waited fur- 
 ther commands. And I could not but be struck 
 with the good temper the man showed on receiving 
 back the parcel of shoes and the money in pay- 
 ment for the pair which my wife had kept, and the 
 quiet way in which he promised as quietly, at 
 least, as the natural impediment in his speech 
 would let him that he would take the parcel and 
 
 money back safely the next time he went to D . 
 
 I noticed, too, the thankfulness with which he 
 received a small fee for his trouble. Altogether, 
 his conduct and bearing made so much impression 
 on me that for the moment I forgot my prejudices 
 against poor Pearson, and, observing that he seem- 
 ed weary, I offered him some refreshment, after 
 having partaken of which he went his way, and 
 for that evening the matter was ended. 
 
 " But the next day, when I was in the fields, a 
 thought struck me that my wife had, unintention- 
 ally of course, and from ignorance, been guilty of 
 a piece of meanness, and that if we did not choose 
 to employ the Methodist shoemaker, we had no 
 right to insult him. It was seeing his cottage that
 
 POOR PEARSON. 85 
 
 put me in mind of poor Pearson, and when I began 
 to think of him I could not get him out of my 
 mind, try as hard as I might. Presently I went 
 home to dinner. 
 
 "'Mary,' I said to my wife, as I was seated 
 beside the hearth after dinner, 'I hope your new 
 shoes will not pinch you when you come to wear 
 them.' 
 
 " ' Pinch, Frank ! Of course they will not. 
 Why should they ? They fit me very well,' said 
 Mary. 
 
 " ' 1 thought, perhaps, they might pinch your 
 conscience ;' for mark here though I was as care- 
 less about religion as one of my dogs, I could talk 
 about conscience 'I thought they might pinch 
 your conscience,' I said. 
 
 " ' Why should they pinch my conscience, 
 Frank?' Mary asked. 'I bought the shoes and 
 paid for them,' she said. 
 
 "'It was rather too bad, though,' said I, 'to 
 make Pearson your messenger ; do you not think 
 so?' 
 
 " ' There, Frank !' replied my wife, ' I wish you 
 would let that poor man alone. I am sure he is a 
 good-natured little fellow, though he is a Metho- 
 dist, and humpbacked into the bargain. I don't
 
 86 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 know what we should do without him for fetching 
 and carrying. And why may I not make use of 
 him as well as you? It was only last week ' 
 
 " ' Pshaw, my dear ! you don't understand me/ 
 said I. ' I am taking Pearson's part now ; and I 
 know what I should have done if I had been in. 
 his place and anybody had given me such a job.' 
 
 " ' Hey-dey, Frank ! what new whim have you 
 taken into your head now ?' said she. 
 
 "'Look here, Mary/ I continued; 'suppose 
 now you were a shoemaker ' 
 
 "'I am very much obliged to you, my dear/ 
 retorted Mary, 'but I am not a shoemaker.' 
 
 " ' Well, love, suppose you were a milliner or a 
 dressmaker/ 
 
 "'Really, Frank/ said my wife, rather nettled, 
 'you seem very complimentary; but I am not a 
 milliner or a dressmaker.' 
 
 " ' But suppose you were that won't hurt you, 
 my dear and suppose some fine lady should take 
 it into her head to send you to some grand shop 
 for a new bonnet, for instance, instead of ordering 
 it from you, and then offering you twopence for 
 your trouble, instead of giving you the credit and 
 profit of serving her yourself eh, Mary ?' 
 
 " * She would not ask me to do such a thing a
 
 POOR PEARSON. 87 
 
 second time/ said Mary, reddening a little, as I 
 thought, at my daring to fancy her a milliner, 
 though it was only in the way of fair argument. 
 
 " ' Well, and if I were a shoemaker,' said I, 
 ' and anybody had sent me on such a fool's errand, 
 J guess I should have let out a bit of my mind.' 
 
 " ' I never thought of that, really,' said Mary, 
 who was a kind-hearted creature. *I am sure I 
 don't want to hurt poor Pearson's feelings ; but he 
 is such a good-natured man, and does so many 
 errands for me, that it did not strike me how in- 
 delicate it was to send him to another shop for 
 what I could have bought better, perhaps, at his 
 own. But then, Frank, you know you have 
 always set yourself against dealing with him, and 
 being so religious' this Mary said with a little 
 sneer, I am afraid 'of course he expects to be 
 looked down upon. Besides,' she added, 'he is 
 glad to earn an honest penny anyhow, for he is 
 badly enough off, I believe.' 
 
 " ' And so he is likely to be so long as he gets 
 used in this way,' I retorted, ' and does not show 
 any spirit ; and after all, the man has a right to be 
 a Methodist if he likes. And if his religion teaches 
 him to bear insults with meekness, it is a better re- 
 ligion than I gave him credit for. I tell you what,
 
 88 RICHES WITHOUT WISGS. 
 
 Mary/ said I, ' I think I'll go and order a pair of 
 boots of Pearson.' 
 
 "'Boots! why yon have boots enough now to last 
 you nobody knows how long,' she remonstrated. 
 
 " ' Never mind/ said I, ' I can afford to buy 
 another pair ;' and without saying anything more I 
 put on my hat and strode across the fields till I 
 came to Pearson's cottage. 
 
 "Poor Pearson was at home in his workshop 
 patching an old boot. He looked up with surprise 
 when I lifted the latch and went in. 
 
 " ' Plenty of work to do, Pearson ?' I asked as 
 familiarly and pleasantly as I could. 
 
 " The poor fellow shook his head. ' Not too 
 much of that, sir,' he said. * Business is not at all 
 brisk, sir.' 
 
 " ' Then you are not too busy to make a pair of 
 boots for me ?' I said. ' Will you take my mea- 
 sure ?' 
 
 "The poor shoemaker looked unspeakable thanks, 
 and with trembling alacrity applied himself to the 
 measurement of my foot. 
 
 "'So you have not overmuch business just now, 
 Pearson ?' 
 
 "'Not much, sir,' said he, speaking cheerfully 
 however.
 
 POOR PEARSON. 89 
 
 "' Pearson/ said I, after he had finished measur- 
 ing and I was lacing up my boot, ' I wonder you 
 stick to this village. You are not getting on, I 
 am told, and I know that all in the place are 
 against you because of your religion. If I were 
 you, I would go somewhere else where that would 
 go down better.' 
 
 " Pearson looked up in my face, to see if I \vas 
 bantering him perhaps, but he saw no signs of that, 
 I believe. ' I have sometimes thought of it, sir,' 
 he said, ' but God's good providence has fixed me 
 here ; and I can truly say, sir, that my heavenly 
 Father has never suffered me to want any good 
 thing; and having food and raiment, I trust I am 
 content.' 
 
 " ' That is all very right, I dare say,' I replied ; 
 and then veering off from the subject, 'Do you 
 know, Pearson, how I came to order these boots of 
 you ?' I asked. 
 
 "The shoemaker hesitated for a moment, and 
 then answered confidently that he did know how it 
 had come about. 
 
 " ' Indeed !' said I ; l you must be more clever 
 than I thought you, then ; for if anybody had told 
 me yesterday that I should have come to you on 
 such an errand to-day, I should not have believed
 
 90 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 it. You don't know, perhaps, that I had deter- 
 mined you never should do a stitch of work for me 
 or mine?' 
 
 "'I had heard as much,' said the man, meekly; 
 * but that was according as God would.' 
 
 " < Well, then,' I asked, < I should like you to tell 
 me what made me change my mind.' 
 
 "'Maybe, sir, it would displease you; and I 
 would not do that willingly,' said he. 
 
 " ' Oh no, I promise not to be offended ; what was 
 it?' 
 
 " ( Well, sir,' said Pearson, 'I will tell you; I 
 don't think I have any right to keep it from you. 
 Look here, sir,' and he took up the boot he was 
 mending when I entered ; ' besides this little job I 
 had not any work to do. I was out yesterday, and 
 the day before, and the day before that, trying for 
 orders, and got none. Money was gone, sir, and 
 without getting into debt I had no food for to-day, 
 neither for poor mother and father nor self. I had 
 not eaten much yesterday, sir, and I was nearly 
 dead-beat when your kindness in giving me refresh- 
 ment made another man of me, especially, Mr. 
 Graham, as I had never expected such kindness 
 from you.' 
 
 "'You had no reason to expect it ; I confess/
 
 POOR PEARSON. 91 
 
 said I ; ' and what put it into my head just then to 
 be more than commonly civil I am sure I don't 
 know.' 
 
 "' Begging your pardon, sir/ continued poor 
 Pearson, ' I can tell you that too ; it was my Master 
 and yours, sir, if I may be so bold as to say so, 
 who put it into your mind.' 
 
 " I laughed heartily at that. ' Well, go on, 
 Pearson/ I said ; ' I am quite curious to know how 
 you found out what sent me to you to-day. Per- 
 haps you think your Master did that too ?' 
 
 " ' Sir, I do think so, and I am sure of it/ said 
 the little shoemaker. * But I'll tell you, sir. I 
 came home thanking God for his care of me and 
 your kindness, sir ; but I was pretty much cast down, 
 too, with my want of success ; and I was half in- 
 clined to take up poor David's cry when he thought 
 the Lord had wellnigh forgotten him, which I 
 oughtn't to have done. And then, sir, I thought 
 of David's God and Lord, and my heart was lifted 
 up to him in prayer that he wouldn't forsake me. 
 I prayed and prayed, sir, till the load was taken 
 off my mind, and the prayer was turned into 
 praise, for I felt sure that God would help me, 
 and that right early.' 
 
 " ' And so you believe, do you, that God sent me
 
 92 RICHES WITHOUT WfNGS. 
 
 here to order a pair of boots of you in answer to 
 your prayer?' I asked, laughing again. 
 
 "'That is my belief, sir/ said the shoemaker, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " ' Well,' said I, after a little pause, ' you are a 
 queer sort of an enthusiast, but you are at liberty 
 to think what you like, so you make me a good 
 pair of boots for my money ;' and then I went out 
 of the shop without telling him how I had been 
 moved to give him the order. 
 
 " But I couldn't get the poor fellow out of my 
 thoughts. First of all, there was his civility and 
 good-nature in submitting to the slights put upon 
 him by my wife ; then there was his evident pov- 
 erty and destitution, borne with so much patience ; 
 and there was his simplicity in speaking about his 
 struggles of mind ; and there was his firm belief 
 that God had answered his prayer. I tried to make 
 a joke of this to my Mary when I got home, but 
 somehow what seemed to be the only thing to be 
 laughed at before it was spoken did not look like 
 a joke at all when it was told. 
 
 "I need not make my story much longer. A 
 few days afterward I called on poor Pearson a 
 second time, under pretence of asking him if my 
 boots were made, but in reality to get hira into
 
 POOR PEARSON. 93 
 
 talk again. And this time I had no inclination 
 to laugh. A few Sundays later I went to my room 
 after breakfast, and soon came down dressed for a 
 journey. 
 
 " ' Why, Frank !' said my wife, ' where can you 
 be going to-day ?' 
 
 " ' I am going to D / said I ; ' I have a cu- 
 riosity to hear poor Pearson's parson/ 
 
 " ' You might as well ask me to go with you, 
 Frank/ said Mary. 
 
 " ( You do not mean that you would go there if 
 I were to ask you ?' I said. 
 
 " Yes, I will, Frank/ she replied ; and we went. 
 
 " We went a second time, and a third ; we went 
 constantly after that, till God in his providence 
 brought the preached gospel to us nearer home; 
 and soon enough the story got about that Frank 
 Graham and his wife had turned Methodists. It 
 did not matter, that; we did not think much of what 
 our neighbours said; we had something else to 
 think about, for it pleased God to show us both 
 that we had been all our lives disobedient and 
 careless, that we were 'already condemned' by his 
 holy law, and that ' there is none other name under 
 heaven whereby we must be saved ' but the name 
 of his dear Son.
 
 94 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " And what led me first to think about my soul 
 was poor Pearson's meekness and good temper 
 under what most men would have considered an 
 insult, and his cheerful confidence in God in time 
 of trouble. By those tokens I was made to see 
 there was something more in the religion of the 
 Bible than I had ever before believed."
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 
 
 ) ARRY BOND was left an orphan at six 
 years old, and would have been consigned 
 to the parish but for an old aunt, who, poor 
 as she was, determined to bring him up with 
 the slender help of one shilling and sixpence and a 
 loaf per week afforded to her by " the board." 
 
 Mrs. Bond kept an apple-stall at the corner of a 
 wide thoroughfare, on one side of which was the 
 large wholesale and retail grocery establishment of 
 " Page and Page." She used to make Larry stand 
 by her stall and learn his lesson, or knit, or pick 
 up what chanced to fall, or carry fruit for any one 
 that made an extensive purchase, if the distance 
 was short. 
 
 He was a quick and docile child, and readily 
 fell in with all her requirements. He soon learnt 
 as much in the book way as she could teach him, 
 and in a vacant hour would prosecute his studies by 
 
 95
 
 96 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 reading the names over the shop doors ; his pale 
 but bright face attracted the notice of kind-hearted 
 customers, and he not seldom got a halfpenny per- 
 quisite. But these halfpennies were valueless to 
 him : he knew he must surrender them to his aunt, 
 who, with all her efforts, could barely pay for scanty 
 fare and the rent of her cellar. 
 
 A dark cellar it was, and small too ; the stall 
 and its furniture occupied the greater part of it, 
 and there was no light but from a little grating into 
 the street. Larry, who yet remembered his home 
 in the country, which had trees all round it and 
 the blue sky smiling through the window, did not 
 like it ; neither did he like the perfect quiet he was 
 obliged to keep while his aunt spelled over her chap- 
 ter and prayed ; but he was early inured to patience, 
 and did not dare to complain. 
 
 Mrs. Bond was a good woman, but had no sym- 
 pathies with children. Larry made a great inroad 
 upon her comfort by his presence, yet she bore it 
 from a sense of what she considered duty. She 
 accustomed him to Sabbath observance, and always 
 t6ok him to church, and in the evening she would 
 try and spell out some of the New Testament when 
 the light was strong enough to let her. Larry, 
 however, soon beat her at reading, and then she
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 97 
 
 made him read to her a task as onerous as that 
 of listening to her. 
 
 It was a safe life, but a very dull one, and so 
 Larry thought ; besides, in winter it was very cold 
 standing by the stall all day ; he was scarcely warm 
 by morning, when he had to get up in the dark 
 and dress himself like a bat, " by feel ;" and then, 
 although his aunt always gave him his full share, 
 their living was meagre, and he often felt more 
 hungry when he had finished his meal than he was 
 when he began it. 
 
 But Larry forgot all his wants and sorrows when 
 he had time to gaze on and contemplate one object 
 that was the house of "Page and Page." To 
 the principals, who lived out of town and drove in 
 in the morning to business, he never lifted his eyes. 
 Her Majesty going to open Parliament would 
 scarcely have exceeded (in his mind) the grandeur 
 with which they were invested ; and for the gentle- 
 man called the foreman, who sometimes came to 
 the door with a pen in his hand, he felt a reverence 
 almost amounting to awe. He would gaze with 
 admiration through the hanging grapes and other 
 various wonders of the windows (which, as things 
 to be possessed and eaten, were simply fabulous in 
 his eyes); at the young gentlemen behind the ample
 
 98 RICHES WITHOUT WISGS. 
 
 counter, so well dressed, with their snow-white 
 aprons and sleeves and smiling faces, rapidly pass- 
 ing from customer to customer, taking down the 
 huge golden canisters or piling up sugar on the 
 scale with an indifference that showed their famil- 
 iarity with luxury. Envy of such favoured beings 
 never touched his heart they were too high for 
 envy; the porters were grown-up men, and he 
 would look at them, and the thought would occur, 
 "If ever I am a man, could I be a porter?" 
 Under any form or capacity to enter the privileged 
 doors of " Page and Page " seemed to him to be on 
 the high road to happiness. 
 
 One, indeed, there was whose place in that estab- 
 lishment he dared to envy for he felt he might 
 under happier circumstances be able to fill it, that 
 is, if he were older, stronger, better dressed and 
 had interest to get it and that was the junior 
 errand-boy. This boy had, as he conceived, the 
 pleasantest life imaginable carrying baskets full 
 of good things hither and thither, and always look- 
 ing warm and busy, and even he had an apron. 
 
 But Larry was doomed to stand by the stall and 
 serve till he was nearly ten years old. A tall boy 
 of his age, semi-starvation had not stopped his 
 growth nor deadened the intelligence of his counte-
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 99 
 
 nance. One day he was sorting the apples and 
 putting them into tempting pennyworths, when the 
 foreman came and stood at the door with his pen in 
 his hand. Was it possible that he beckoned to 
 Larry? He did; and in his haste to obey his 
 Btimmons Larry nearly upset the stall. 
 
 " Tell your grandmother to come here/' said the 
 foreman, retiring up the shop. 
 
 " She's my aunt," said Larry ; but the foreman 
 did not hear, or was not nice about the degree of 
 affinity between them, and continued his walk. 
 
 Larry, somewhat disappointed, told his aunt she 
 was wanted ; the momentary hope he had enter- 
 tained of being himself admitted having vanished. 
 
 Mrs. Bond was away some time, and when she 
 returned, told Larry the errand-boy whom he had 
 so diligently watched had left, and the foreman, 
 having often observed how quick and well-behaved 
 he was, had offered to try him for a short time, as 
 he was in want of one at once. 
 
 " Now you mind, Larry, I gave you the best of 
 words to him, and I can tell you that it's my train- 
 ing and care of you that's made such A prospect 
 for you ; so I hope you'll mind and remember, and 
 bring credit on me." 
 
 Larry was bewildered; his golden dreams, his
 
 100 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 airy castles realized in a moment. The stall 
 couldn't be left, so his aunt sent him alone, telling 
 him he was to have three shillings a week to begin 
 with. He hardly knew how to comport himself 
 when he stood before the dignitaries within the 
 shop of " Page and Page ;" but the young gentle- 
 men, one and all, smiled benignantly on him, and 
 ordered Cox, the head errand-boy, to give him the 
 departed official's apron and basket. The apron 
 was too long considerably, and the basket looked 
 almost large enough to hold him ; but he dextrously 
 twitched up the former, and as to the latter, he 
 carried it with such vigour that no one would 
 have had the heart to question his strength. 
 
 That night the good old woman lifted her heart 
 in humble gratitude to the Father of mercies, and 
 prayed fervently that grace might be given to the 
 boy to walk wisely and to perform aright the 
 duties of his new calling. Larry joined in a vague 
 sense of thankfulness, but to the prayer for divine 
 guidance and help his wandering heart echoed no 
 response. 
 
 Larry performed his errands with faultless 
 rapidity and exactness ; he seemed to know by in- 
 tuition where everybody lived, and never made 
 mistakes. When he received his three shillings on
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 101 
 
 Saturday night from the foreman, he was com- 
 mended, and told he should be continued in his place 
 if he went on as he had begun. 
 
 His aunt told him he must now " find himself," 
 and also pay her sixpence a week toward the rent 
 of the cellar, as she should get no more parish 
 allowance, now he had gone to work. Half a crown 
 a week was not much for a growing working boy's 
 board (though it is beyond the average often of 
 what a working man gets for each member of his 
 family), but to Larry it seemed inexhaustible ; and 
 the first penny loaf which he bought and ate at 
 once was the sweetest morsel he had ever tasted. 
 
 His good behaviour recommended him to the 
 whole establishment ; he was so on the alert that, 
 except on great market-days, when the influx of 
 customers was like a rushing tide, and he had thrice 
 his ordinary work, he was at liberty to run on 
 errands for the house; and the cook declared he 
 was "the willingest, sharpest boy they had ever 
 had ; and wished he was in Cox's place, for he was 
 more deserving of it." 
 
 " Cox's place !" Cox lived in the house, dined in 
 the kitchen every day, and slept in a room by him- 
 self every night. Cox's place ! oh no ! Larry 
 dared not think of it, and yet from the time he
 
 102 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 heard the cook's wish it became his reigning idea. 
 He was, if possible, more anxious than ever to 
 please (especially the cook); instead of rejoicing in 
 his present good condition, he would go to sleep at 
 night counting up the advantages enjoyed by Cox, 
 and long for them. Cox didn't pay for lodgings. 
 Cox had enough to eat every day and meat 
 always and pudding on Sundays ! Happy Cox ! 
 
 His aunt saw a change in him, but could not 
 account for it. " I hope, Larry, you don't begrudge 
 the sixpence you give toward the rent," she said. 
 " You have fourpence farthing left for your daily 
 food, remember, and that's more than I can spend 
 on myself. You know, Larry, I sha'n't be able to 
 keep the stall much longer, and I must lay by a 
 little. I've got no friend to look to." Larry, who 
 had early learned to calculate, said he didn't know 
 how he should get clothes if he spent all his money 
 every week. "Well, then," said his aunt, upon 
 reflection, " I'll let go the sixpence, and that may 
 go for clothes till you're raised, and then you can 
 pay me back." 
 
 Even this arrangement did not clear the clouds 
 from his brow, but he feared to tell his aunt what 
 his heart was set upon, lest she should lecture him 
 upon a dissatisfied spirit.
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ESOLGH. 103 
 
 It was but a few days after this that he brought 
 her the joyful news that Cox was going to leave 
 and he was going to have his place ; and in the 
 fulness of his joy he confessed that he had been 
 looking and longing for this, but did not dare to 
 hope for it, as he was so young. " I am to live in 
 the house, and have the same wages," he said, clap- 
 ping his hands; "so I can afford to buy clothes 
 and save my money too." 
 
 " \Vell-a-day !" said Mrs. Bond, " you will be 
 rich. I hope you'll be contented too; but if you 
 are not, my boy, the rise won't do you much good, 
 remember." Notwithstanding this caution, she 
 rejoiced in his prosperity, and did her best to pre- 
 pare his scanty wardrobe for living in the house of 
 " Page and Page." " You'll be able now to give 
 me sixpence a week for your washing," she said. 
 " I've done it for nothing while you hadn't it to 
 pay." Larry assented, but not with the alacrity 
 she would have liked. " It's having known hard- 
 ship early," she said to herself, " that makes him 
 stingy ; but I wish he had more generous ways." 
 
 When Larry, with his small bundle under his 
 arm, walked into the shop on the day that he was 
 to become "house-servant," a spirit more elated 
 was not in the whole country. The cook directed
 
 104 RICHES WITHOUT WIXGS. 
 
 him where to find " his room." It was a loft, into 
 which he entered by a ladder from the warehouse ; 
 the rafters were not whitewashed ; bales of goods, 
 old casks, etc., were ranged along it. The bed was 
 on the floor in the corner; the only light was from 
 four squares of thick glass let into the tiles; on 
 the whole, a more cheerful apartment might be 
 imagined, but Larry saw in it nothing short of 
 perfection. He deposited his bundle with a feel- 
 ing of ownership or proprietorship it was his 
 own room and although he had heard Cox com- 
 plain of the rats and mice in it, he was not dis- 
 couraged. 
 
 For some time he was more than satisfied with 
 his quarters : such living, both in quality and 
 quantity, he could not have imagined. When he 
 went on Saturday night to pay his aunt and fetch 
 his Sunday shirt, he would enlarge in glowing 
 terms on his fare. She listened patient and 
 pleased for a few times, but warned him at last 
 not to think too much of his comforts, and ques- 
 tioned him as to his Bible, whether he got time to 
 read a little, as she had made him do every day, 
 and whether he was regular in his prayers. " It 
 may be, Larry, you don't pray with your heart, as 
 you ought to do ; but never mind, you must pray
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 105 
 
 that you may pray ; it was a good man that said 
 that." 
 
 Such lectures were distasteful to him, and in his 
 heart he shrank from them and turned gladly 
 away glad too that he no longer shared her sup- 
 per of bread and herring and sugarless tea, though 
 he had once reckoned on Saturday night's supper 
 as the treat of the week. 
 
 But he got used to good living, though he did 
 not become careless in consequence, but redoubled 
 his efforts to please. He had now a higher prize 
 than Cox's happy lot in view. He had grown tall 
 and stout with his altered diet. His improved 
 clothing, which, by his aunt's help and manage- 
 ment, his wages furnished him with, made a great 
 change in his appearance. True, he was not born 
 a gentleman, but he had heard from one of the 
 porters that one of the sprucest of those who, like 
 lords in the upper house, were behind the counter, 
 had been raised by the foreman from a station iii 
 life as low as his; but then he had had good 
 schooling from the parish. 
 
 From the moment that the porter told him this 
 the arrow entered, and schooling, not " living," was 
 his ruling desire. By dint of inquiry he found an 
 evening school, and with the foreman's consent at-
 
 106 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 tended it; and buying a bottle of oil he put a cot- 
 ton wick in it, and hours after the household slept 
 he was poring over his book or his sum, raising a 
 considerable stock of knowledge on the foundation 
 of his aunt's first lessons. 
 
 All this was noticed by the foreman, who, seeing 
 that he did not neglect his work to prosecute his 
 studies, praised what he called his laudable am- 
 bition, and paid for his schooling, furnishing him 
 with books and allowing him time to use them 
 when business permitted. His anxiety to succeed 
 in his darling aspirations nearly defeated his ends ; 
 he overworked himself, and his aunt saw with 
 sorrow that his eyes grew heavy and his cheek sal- 
 low. She soon found out what caused this, and 
 though she praised his diligence and industry, she 
 warned him as usual against setting his heart too 
 much on the world. When he told her what the 
 porter had said, she smiled and replied, " You 
 thought you were to be quite happy when you got 
 Cox's place, but now you want more." He said it 
 was right to try and get on ; " and if I got to be 
 promoted by the foreman I should have " 
 
 " Larry, my boy, don't think of what you would 
 have, but what you have; that's the way to be 
 happy." But Larry was not to be persuaded ; he
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 107 
 
 had no rest in his spirit until his long labours and 
 determined efforts were rewarded, and the foreman, 
 ascertaining his fitness, raised him to be a helper 
 to those who served. He was now furnished with 
 clothes ; his loft, which he at first had entered on 
 with such pride, was left for his successor, and 
 he had now a room containing furniture of which 
 he could scarcely tell the use; and beyond and 
 above all his weekly wages were changed to "a 
 salary" of twenty pounds per annum. 
 
 His work was of a different kind, and much 
 more incessant than before, but he gloried in it. 
 The long bills he had to cast up, the long invoices 
 he had to read out for checking, the goods he had 
 to direct and send, and the messages from the fore- 
 man in the counting-house to the young gentlemen, 
 and from the young gentlemen to the foreman, it 
 was all a delightful variety, and the more his at- 
 tainments and readiness were in demand, the better 
 he was satisfied. 
 
 Dressed in his new clothes, with a present of tea 
 and snuff, he paid a visit to Mrs. Bond. He told 
 her of his golden fortunes, and talked to her about 
 " prices," and " what we sell at," as if he had been 
 behind the counter for years. She had given up 
 her apple-stall : now that he was well off in the
 
 108 RICHES WITHOUT WIXGS. 
 
 world, she had no care but for herself, and the lit- 
 tle she had saved was sufficient for her less wants. 
 
 "I shall be able now to allow you a shilling a 
 week," he said. "Twenty pounds a year well, 
 fifty-two shillings out of it will leave enough to 
 keep up clothes like these, I hope!" He spoke 
 consideringly. His aunt didn't refuse it. " It '11 
 help to keep his heart open," she said to herself. 
 
 Time wore the gilt off even of twenty pounds 
 per annum, new clothes and an almost gentleman's 
 place ; and Mrs. Bond thought her nephew looked 
 none the happier for his rise. 
 
 No, he was not. He had heard how high the 
 salaries of those above him were, and he saw that 
 he had double their work. It was his place to be 
 the first in the shop to prepare the counter, to be 
 first in the counting-house to get ready the books, 
 to be at work before they were stirring, to be at 
 work clearing away at night while they were at 
 their ease. He did not care for work, but he did 
 for its payment. 
 
 All this, however, he kept within. His good old 
 aunt, just on the point of getting an almshouse for 
 which she had long patiently waited, was taken to 
 a better home. Her last words to him had been to 
 warn him not to let the mercies of God close his
 
 HOW LARRY EOND GOT ENOUGH. 109 
 
 heart against him. " If you live for the world, you 
 will be a disappointed man, get what you will in 
 it," she said. She gave him her Bible, but all her 
 other possessions she left to the poor woman in the 
 next cellar who had nursed and watched her. 
 
 Larry felt alone when she was gone, but her 
 worth had never been recommended to him by 
 winning ways. Except that he felt he had lost a 
 faithful friend, he was little affected by her death. 
 As to her Bible, he put it away as she gave it to 
 him, wrapped up carefully in paper, to keep for her 
 sake ; but he had a new one with gilt leaves and a 
 clasp, which the foreman had presented to him at 
 Christmas that he took to church. At home he 
 had quite left off looking at it. 
 
 "Seest thoti a man diligent in his business? he 
 shall sts nd before kings." 
 
 Larry Bond found this to be true. In all labour 
 there is profit. We cannot follow him through it 
 all, but step by step he rose till he received the 
 highest salary, and was second only to the foreman 
 in the house of " Page and Page." 
 
 At each remove he believed he was satisfied and 
 should remain so, but soon the insatiable " Give, 
 give !" returned, and it was plain while anything 
 remained before him he would not rest.
 
 110 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 And so he looked ambitiously at the foreman's 
 post, the fine house he occupied and the honour- 
 able trust reposed in him by " Page and Page." 
 And when on his retiiing he recommended Larry 
 to the firm as his successor, and obtained for him 
 the post, he soon aspired to being his own master. 
 Why should he not be made a partner ? He did 
 all the work. His energy and industry and cau- 
 tion increased the gains and extended the fame of 
 the house. He ought to be a partner. 
 
 At last he was a partner. Yes, the little apple- 
 boy, who had once beheld "Page and Page" as 
 mysteries of greatness, was now on the same plat- 
 form with them, and had his name engraved with 
 theirs in copper-plate upon the invoices. 
 
 Surely the world had done all that could be done 
 for Larry Bond. Money, station, respect were 
 abundantly his. He had now, moreover, a wife 
 that pleased him, and every comfort of home. Yet 
 he became again dissatisfied with his portion. 
 What he wanted he did not know, but he felt that 
 he wanted something, and wondered often in his 
 leisure hours what it was to which he might reason- 
 ably ascribe his discontent. 
 
 He was turning over some papers one evening, 
 and missing one, searched for it in an unlikely
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. Ill 
 
 place, having tried every likely one. That was an 
 old bureau, the first article of furniture he had 
 ever bought and called his own. As he opened one 
 drawer, something obstructed it. It was a brown 
 paper parcel his aunt's Bible. 
 
 Thoughts of various kinds crowded on him as he 
 turned over its leaves, many of which were folded 
 down to mark their special value. 
 
 " Poor old soul !" said Larry, with a sigh, as he 
 turned up one after another; "she was a good 
 friend to me. I wish I wish no, I don't wish 
 she was still alive, for I do believe she is better off ; 
 but I wish " Here he was at fault, for he could 
 not say what he wished. He soon closed the Bible, 
 but a feeling of loneliness pressed on his heart. 
 One of the places which had been folded down was 
 the parable of the rich fool. His eye had glanced 
 over it he understood well that his aunt had 
 pointed the lesson specially to him but feeling 
 that he had not that satisfaction with his lot which 
 the fool had, that he had no disposition to say to 
 his soul, "Take thine ease; eat, drink, and be 
 merry," he said mentally, " She was wrong there." 
 Yet there was an expression that he could not get 
 rid of: " So is he that .... is not rich toward 
 God." "Rich toward God?" he repeated to
 
 112 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 himself more than once with a questioning ex- 
 pression. 
 
 The next day he was inspecting some goods newly 
 stored when a porter attracted his notice. He was 
 standing with his back against a cask, apparently 
 reading. "Nichols!" he cried. The man turned 
 
 O 
 
 round, and thrusting a paper in his pocket, ad- 
 vanced. "You're at your ease!" said Larry. 
 "Waiting for the truck, sir," was the answer. 
 "What were you reading?" "A pretty thing 
 enough," said Nichols, taking out the tract and 
 smoothing the leaves as he offered it. While he 
 \vas in the act of doing so, the son of the elder Mr. 
 Page, who was about to sail as a missionary to the 
 East, came into the warehouse in search of Larry, 
 with a message from his father. " Ah !" he ex- 
 claimed, glad to see the paper in his hand, " that's 
 a good tract ; do you know it ?" Larry did not 
 answer, but looked at Nichols, who said, seeing he 
 was referred to, "It's uncommon pretty reading, 
 sir, as I was telling master." " Oh ! I am rejoiced 
 to hear that you like to read such things/' rejoined 
 the missionary. " I trust, friend, that you love the 
 Lord Jesus." " Love him !" replied the porter, as 
 if almost indignant at the doubt implied ; "who's 
 to help loving him that believes in him?" "Ah!
 
 HO W LARR Y B OND GOT ENO UGH. 113 
 
 I see you know his preciousness," said the mis- 
 sionary with emotion. " I do sir, I do," said the 
 porter. "Well I may love him he's all the 
 world to me." 
 
 The truck came up, and the men called to Nichols 
 to help to load ; and shaking with heartiness the 
 proffered hand of the missionary, he turned quickly 
 to obey the summons. 
 
 " You are happy in having such a man in your 
 house," said Mr. Page, his face glowing with ani- 
 mation; "it is seldom we meet with so hearty 
 testimony to the worth of our dear Master." 
 
 Larry made a stumbling kind of reply : " He 
 was a sober man, hard-working, a very good ex- 
 ample," etc. 
 
 "Yes, yes; I could see genuine faith and love in 
 him," said the ardent young man ; " and it has 
 been a blessing to me." 
 
 Larry was much puzzled how Nichols could be 
 a blessing to Mr. Page ; but he read the note from 
 his father and entered on the business it contained. 
 This was soon discussed. As they were about to 
 part the missionary said, " I shall probably not see 
 you again, Mr. Bond ; God willing, I sail shortly, 
 and I have much to do before then, therefore I bid 
 you good-bye."
 
 114 ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " How long do you expect to be absent ?" asked 
 Larry. 
 
 " While it shall please God to give me health 
 and strength to work for him," was the young 
 man's answer. 
 
 " But that may be to the end of your days ; I 
 trust it will, I'm sure, and that you'll have a long 
 life of both/' he answered. 
 
 " Amen, if it is his will, and if so how can they 
 be so well spent as in his service ? I would gladly 
 stay in England and work, but the cry is con- 
 tinually made, ' No one will go out,' therefore I 
 
 go." 
 
 " It's a great sacrifice," said Larry, as he thought 
 of the "fine business," immense income, and so 
 much more that made life desirable, that lie was 
 about to leave. 
 
 " It looks very small when we compare it with 
 what he sacrificed for us, Mr. Bond," answered the 
 missionary. 
 
 "Well, I hope you will be rewarded," said 
 Larry. 
 
 "Rewarded!" was the answer; "when did he 
 ever fail to reward the giving of a cup of cold 
 water ? It matters not how or where his servants 
 work. He reivards them. In keeping of his
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 115 
 
 commandments there is a great reward. When the 
 law of God enters our hearts the reward comes 
 with it ; there is a sweetness and a satisfaction in 
 working for him, ever so humbly, that no man finds 
 from the most costly payments of the world." 
 
 "Well, I hope we are all working for God, one 
 way or another," said Larry, in a somewhat quer- 
 ulous tone. 
 
 " I'll tell you how we may know if we are," re- 
 plied the missionary, who suspected that Larry was 
 as yet a man wholly of the world. " If we are 
 working for him because we love him and would obey 
 him. Many work for him indirectly, without any 
 such desire. They uphold his moral law, are sober, 
 just and honest, and faithfully discharge their 
 duties in life (as they think], not because they love 
 him, but because they love themselves ; and know- 
 ing that establishing a good character is a sure way 
 to prosper, they labour to do it. But do you think 
 he accepts such service as this ? No : they work 
 for the world, and the world pays them with its 
 gold and silver and honour and comforts and 
 pleasures, and these are all it can give. And a 
 poor ( all ' it is, Mr. Bond ; it cannot ensure health 
 to enjoy it, and it leaves the poor servant at death. 
 But so does not God pay. His servants get peace
 
 116 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 satisfying peace and joy here, hope in death, 
 and oh what an eternity !" 
 
 He was much moved, and Larry, whose mind 
 had been somewhat prepared for the lesson, heard 
 it with much conviction of its truth. 
 
 That night he took up his aunt's Bible, determined 
 to read it and pray, but he turned the pages, not 
 knowing where to begin. 
 
 " At the beginning," at last he said, resolutely, 
 " and I will read it through." 
 
 So he began at the beginning. But it was sore 
 drudgery to him night after night, and prayer was 
 a still more onerous burden. 
 
 He had, however, persevered in both for some 
 months without perceiving any good effect from it. 
 One day the person who now acted as foreman let 
 fall during conversation an expression of a very 
 disrespectful kind toward Christianity. 
 
 Larry, a year back, would have passed it by, 
 but it touched him now, and he answered with a 
 rebuke. The foreman was surprised, but sneered 
 as he pretended to apologize. 
 
 He was a very active and attentive man, and 
 Larry had found him an able servant. Of his 
 principles he was ignorant till his infidelity thus 
 displayed itself.
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 117 
 
 " It must not be," he said to himself, as he paced 
 up and down his room. " I will not keep an in- 
 fidel in the house I dare not." And he carried 
 out his determination, for he found that this man 
 had not disguised his infidelity from the young men 
 associated with him, nor the servants of the ware- 
 house ; and although he was a most valuable and 
 efficient official, he dismissed him. The younger 
 Mr. Page rather resisted this act, but the elder was 
 with Larry when he stated his reasons fully. 
 
 From this time, although there was much trouble 
 and additional labour to him from the difficulty in 
 meeting with a satisfactory foreman, Larry felt a 
 peace, an approach to happiness, he had never 
 known. Slowly the truth dawned on him that to 
 live to God was wisdom both for this world and the 
 next. That light was not a fitful meteor light ; it 
 was the dawn of day, which he had long asked for 
 in ignorance and weakness. 
 
 The result of this act of faith stimulated him to 
 others. He exerted himself by degrees in promot- 
 ing the spiritual welfare of his household, and at 
 length became an acknowledged servant of God. 
 He had the satisfaction, too, of leading his wife to 
 join in seeking to make his house a Christian, 
 home.
 
 118 RICHES WITHOUT WIXGS. 
 
 He took great delight in advancing Nichols, to 
 whom he thought he owed the first movement in 
 his new and happy life. But Nichols, when his 
 children Avere out in good places and his wife and 
 he had food and raiment convenient, could not think 
 of anything more he wanted. It might be, if he 
 failed in health as he grew old and stopped work, 
 an almshouse would be useful, but the Lord would 
 provide. 
 
 What a truly delightful thought ! Almshouses ! 
 Larry immediately bought ground and built a row 
 of pleasant dwellings for aged or infirm Christians, 
 and gave the promise of the first to Nichols. Love 
 and faith expanded with their exercise, and he 
 realized the truth of the missionary's words. Often 
 he called those words to mind, and did not fail to 
 write to tell him how gracious the Lord had been 
 how he had allowed him, after he had given his 
 heart for so many years to the world, to discover 
 that it could not satisfy, and then to lay himself at 
 his feet for the peace which could nowhere else be 
 found. 
 
 "Now," he said, " I have indeed found satisfying 
 riches a portion that yields me full content. 
 When I was living to myself, I went on and on, 
 and the more I gained the less I was satisfied ; but
 
 HOW LARRY BOND GOT ENOUGH. 119 
 
 now that I live to God I have nothing to desire but 
 that I may be more alive to the happiness of my 
 condition, the excellence of his rewards and the 
 riches of his grace."
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 
 
 jURING the leisure of my college vacations 
 I was accustomed to devote much time to 
 visiting the sick as an employment calcu- 
 e) lated to prepare me for pastoral duties. 
 And I now look back upon those exercises with 
 much satisfaction, as they greatly helped me to 
 understand the diiferent phases of human nature, 
 and assisted me to adapt my conversation to the 
 diversity of character with which I became ac- 
 quainted. I can therefore recommend all students 
 preparing for the work of the ministry to devote 
 as much time as they possibly can spare from the 
 study of books to the deeper study of humanity, 
 as they may find it in the sick chamber and in the 
 abodes of ignorance and poverty. 
 
 The following narrative will furnish an illustra- 
 tion of this study. A friend who was much ab- 
 sorbed in his professional duties as a physician 
 120
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 121 
 
 called my attention to a case which had come un- 
 der his notice, in reference to which he said : " The 
 man is sinking beyond the power of medicine to 
 recover him ; but a little Christian sympathy and 
 instruction may do him more good than all the 
 remedies I can prescribe; I wish you would put 
 him on your list and visit him as often as you 
 can." 
 
 In compliance with this request, I went to Blue 
 Anchor alley, Bunhill Row, and after numerous 
 inquiries found out my friend's patient living in a 
 solitary room on the first floor in a house in one of 
 the closest parts of that thickly-populated neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 The physician had given me but little informa- 
 tion respecting his patient, except that, in addition 
 to what he had said when he first invited me to 
 visit him, he said : " I do not know the history of 
 
 Charles L ; but I have a powerful impression 
 
 it will be found painfully interesting, as I am con- 
 vinced, from his conversation and manner, and par- 
 ticularly from the whole character and deportment 
 of his wife, that they have seen better days. I feel 
 an indescribable interest in them, and therefore I 
 have exceeded the ordinary rules of dispensary 
 practice and called upon them several times. They
 
 122 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 fully appreciate any kindness that is shown to 
 them." 
 
 On entering the sick man's apartment, a scene 
 of neatness and cleanliness, such as I had never 
 before witnessed in connection with so much pov- 
 erty, met my eyes. The furniture was good in 
 quality, and, though there was not much of it, 
 looked as if it once had had a better home. 
 
 Mrs. L , who had opened the door of the 
 
 sick room to me, stood too much excited to speak, 
 but looked inquiringly, as though she would have 
 asked, " Who are you, and what is your errand ?" 
 I told her that I came at the request of Doctor 
 
 C . She instantly said : " I hope the doctor is 
 
 not ill. He has been very kind to us, and has 
 never before sent a student to attend to my hus- 
 band." 
 
 " I know he has not," was my reply ; " but if 
 there are any new symptoms since the doctor was 
 here, I shall be most happy to make them known 
 to him very quickly, and especially if he can give 
 any new prescription that will afford him any re- 
 lief. However, my special object is to inquire 
 what can be done for the soul of your husband ?" 
 
 Though these few words had been pronounced 
 in undertones, as the invalid lay motionless in his
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 123 
 
 bed, yet no sooner did the words, " the soul of your 
 husband," escape my lips, than he made an effort 
 to raise his head from his pillow, and he said in 
 feeble but emphatic tones : " Jane, Jane dear, God 
 has heard your prayers for me, and he has sent his 
 angel to instruct and guide me. Oh, I may be 
 saved yet !" 
 
 I replied, " Christ is able to save to the utter- 
 most all that come unto God by him." 
 
 " I fear I shall be an exception," he exclaimed ; 
 " for I have hardened my heart in sin, that now I 
 cannot believe, I cannot repent, I cannot pray. 
 That dear creature," pointing to his wife, "can 
 pray, and does pray for me, though I have been 
 most cruel and unkind to her. She has forgiven 
 me, and prays for me as if I had been the kindest 
 of husbands. But she only knows " 
 
 His excitement overpowered him. He wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 At this moment I noticed an elegant but much- 
 worn pocket-Bible, which had been partly con- 
 cealed under a fold of the counterpane. I took it 
 and read several detached passages, such as, u God 
 is very present help in trouble;" "When my 
 heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock 
 that is higher than I." After a few min-
 
 124 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 utes I begged him to try to compose himself, as I 
 wished to know many things which he alone could 
 tell me, that I might be better able to give him 
 suitable instruction and to pray for the blessings 
 he most needed. 
 
 He at length said : " It is a sad tale. I cannot 
 trust myself to make the attempt. Jane will tell 
 it you." 
 
 I told him I was anxious only to know the state 
 of his soul in relation to God and eternity. 
 
 He said, " I am a wretched sinner, and if I die 
 as I am, I must be lost." 
 
 I said, " Conviction is the Spirit's first step to 
 conversion and salvation." 
 
 "I have sinned against light and knowledge, 
 against the voice of conscience and the warnings of 
 dearest friends. I at one time attended an evan- 
 gelical ministry, and often wept while listening to 
 the preaching of my pastor. My mother often 
 talked to me about the salvation of my soul, and 
 many a time did she pray when alone with me. I 
 had at one time deep emotions, which I took for 
 signs of repentance; they, however, soon passed 
 away. Yet I thought myself religious, and others 
 thought so too. But, alas ! I was the worst of 
 hypocrites, a self-deceiver. I kept up the outward
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 125 
 
 appearance of religion. Often, very often, did 
 Jane and I read that book" pointing to the 
 pocket-Bible "together, before and after our 
 marriage." 
 
 Here he fell back upon his pillow quite exhaust- 
 ed with the effort he had made. Restoratives were 
 promptly administered by his affectionate wife; 
 and when he recovered he said, " Dear Jane, you 
 can tell the rest." 
 
 But thinking that if I prolonged my visit it 
 would be attended with injurious effects upon his 
 weak frame, I begged that the sequel might be left 
 to a future time. In this both the invalid and 
 his wife acquiesced. I then read the fifty-first 
 Psalm, prayed earnestly for him, bade him good- 
 bye and retired. 
 
 On my second visit I was received with the 
 warmth and cordiality due only to a tried and 
 faithful friend of many years' standing. Charles 
 
 L had had a better night than usual; his 
 
 cough was neither so frequent nor so severe as it 
 had been. He had been more free from dejection, 
 languor and restlessness during the last two nights 
 and days than he had been since he took to his 
 bed. His fond wife ascribed this pleasing change 
 to the fact that his mind had been relieved from a
 
 126 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 heavy burden through the exercise of faith on the 
 blessed Redeemer. 
 
 A bright gleam of hope of future recovery came 
 over his spirit, and he said : " I think God intends 
 to raise me up again to health, that I may have 
 time to prove my faith and repentance to be sin- 
 cere. Should he spare me and restore me to 
 health, ' then will I teach transgressors thy ways, 
 and sinners shall be converted unto thee.' " He 
 suddenly checked himself, and said, " But oh this 
 treacherous heart has deceived me so often that, 
 though I hope to get well, I dread exposure to the 
 least temptation." 
 
 I replied, "Sufficient for the day is the evil 
 thereof. Our times are in the hands of Him who 
 is too wise to err. The present moment alone is 
 ours, and upon it the decisions of eternity may 
 depend. Try to realize a present Saviour, and to 
 live the life of faith on him. This alone can pre- 
 pare the soul for the solemn change, or strengthen 
 it to grapple with the temptations of our earthly 
 sojourn." 
 
 " Ah," he exclaimed, " it has been for the want 
 of that faith that I have been tossed like a vessel 
 without rudder, compass or anchor. It has been a 
 short but a perilous voyage. All shoals and no
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 127 
 
 harbour. And so you, sir, will say when Jane 
 tells you all." 
 
 I replied : " It is a great and unspeakable mercy 
 that God has made known to us a refuge in Christ 
 where we may be safe here, and a haven of eternal 
 rest beyond the grave." 
 
 Observing the cheek of the invalid reddening 
 with the hectic flush, I turned to his wife and said 
 that if she wished to relate any of the circum- 
 stances of their former history, to which references 
 had been made, perhaps the present would be a 
 suitable time, especially as it would allow her hus- 
 band time to rest from the exertion of speaking. 
 
 With much confusion of face and a hurried 
 glance at her husband, she said, " I would gladly 
 spare your feelings, sir, and my own; but as 
 Charles wishes it, and I know he will be happier 
 when you know all, I will do my best to give a 
 true though hurried sketch. It is only five years 
 this month that we were married. Charles was 
 twenty-two, and I nineteen. Our parents were 
 very consistent Christians. At our wedding we 
 shared in their earnest prayers for our prosperity. 
 And during the first eight months our enjoyment 
 of health, success in business, mutual affection and 
 friendly kindnesses seemed to be answers to their
 
 128 EICIIES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 prayers. Up to that time we regularly observed 
 the form of domestic worship, morning and even- 
 ing. This, however, soon after was allowed to fall 
 into great irregularity, and eventually was entirely 
 abandoned. From that we date our misfortunes. 
 
 " In the summer evenings we were accustomed 
 to walk together in Hyde Park. One evening, 
 not feeling well, I persuaded Charles to go for his 
 usual walk without me. He went. He did not 
 return till a late hour. He came home and appear- 
 ed quite unconscious of the time, and began, with 
 great cheerfulness, to tell me that he had met with 
 an old schoolfellow, and that he had put him in 
 the way to realize twenty-five pounds. At first I 
 had no idea of the means by which he had gained 
 the amount, but supposed he alluded to some busi- 
 ness transaction. I cannot describe the horrible 
 sensations I experienced, though I did all in my 
 power to conceal them, when he told me ' he had 
 won the money at a game or two.' With as much 
 composure as I could command I earnestly and 
 affectionately begged him to avoid such tempta- 
 tions in the future, but could not succeed in 
 obtaining a promise that he would comply with 
 my wishes. However, about six weeks passed 
 away, and I began to hope that he had seen his
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 129 
 
 error and abandoned the gambling-house. This 
 hope was at once destroyed by his returning home 
 one night, flushed with excitement, when he laid 
 upon the table a handful of sovereigns, saying, 
 ' There, dear Jane, are they not worth winning ?' 
 I could not restrain my feelings on this occasion, 
 but burst into a flood of tears, and said, ' Dear, 
 dear Charles, what will it profit you if you gain 
 the whole world and lose your own soul ?' " 
 
 Mrs. L was about to proceed when her hus- 
 band interrupted her, by saying, "But, my dear 
 Jane, how did I treat your kind remonstrances ? 
 Did I not say, in a very pettish manner, ' My soul 
 will be neither better nor worse for a few innocent 
 games?'" "Oh yes, dear Charles, I recollect you 
 did, though I had forgotten it. The next day we 
 had a long discussion on gambling, which ended in 
 angry words on both sides. I was, however, agree- 
 ably surprised to find that nearly two months passed 
 away in comparative comfort, and I again began 
 to hope that I should hear no more of gambling. 
 Business had been more than usually brisk and re- 
 munerative; we appeared happy, prospects seemed 
 to brighten, and Charles promised to make me a 
 present of a new dress and an elegant set of furs 
 for the approaching winter. These bright days
 
 130 EICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 were of short duration ; and one night, after sitting 
 up till two o'clock, I retired to my bed-room, and 
 after lying down for more than an hour I heard 
 his knock and opened the street door, for I had 
 sent the servants to bed at their usual time. I no 
 sooner saw him than I trembled with an agitation 
 I cannot describe, for I had never seen him intox- 
 icated before, and as he staggered into the passage 
 I feared he would injure me. Instead of this, he 
 quietly muttered, ' I must go to bed, Jane/ and he 
 uttered not another word, but fell asleep as soon as 
 he reached his bed-room. In a state of comparative 
 torpor he remained till eleven o'clock in the day, 
 when he came down-stairs and did little else but 
 weep and sigh. About one o'clock that day a 
 shabby genteel-looking man came into the shop 
 and inquired for Charles. He was told by the 
 
 shopman that Mr. L was too ill to see any one. 
 
 The stranger said, ' I must see Mr. L , and will 
 
 not leave the house till I do.' " 
 
 The narrative was here interrupted by the an- 
 nouncement of Dr. C . When he left I read 
 
 part of the third chapter of St. John's Gospel, and 
 part of the thirty-fifth chapter of Ezekiel. Perceiv- 
 ing the sick man had suffered great mental agony 
 luring the recital of this portion of his history, I
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 131 
 
 commended him in prayer to that Saviour whose 
 blood cleanseth from all sins, and took leave of him 
 for the present. 
 
 On my third visit, after a few inquiries relating 
 to the body and the mind of the sick man, and 
 finding that as a humble penitent he was praying, 
 "Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief/' I 
 
 turned to Mrs. L and asked her to continue 
 
 her narrative. 
 
 Drawing her hand across her forehead, Mrs. 
 
 L answered, " I almost forget how far I had 
 
 got in my dismal story." I took out my note- 
 book and told her that I had felt so much interest 
 in her tale that I had taken a few notes, and that 
 she left off telling me of the man who came to the 
 house and would not leave it until he had seen her 
 husband. 
 
 "Ah!" she said, "I wish I could forget that 
 day ; it was the first of intense misery I had ever 
 known ; but to proceed. On hearing the determi- 
 nation of that man, dear Charles rose and said, ' I 
 must see him.' I observed that as Charles left the 
 parlour he took the cash-box with him. My fears 
 were then awakened, and a heavy gloom came over 
 my spirit. It was a long time before he came back
 
 132 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 to the parlour. When he returned he told me that 
 the stranger had detained him because he would 
 not leave till every demand was satisfied, and to do 
 this he had sent to borrow a few pounds of a neigh- 
 bour. He then said, 'I have only six shillings 
 left. I was unlucky last night, and lost more than 
 I have ever won/ I then said, ' Perhaps this loss 
 is the best thing that could happen to you, as it 
 will convince you that gambling must lead to ruin/ 
 I endeavoured to extort from him a promise that 
 he would never go near the gambling-house." 
 
 Mr. L interposed at this part of the narrative 
 
 and said, " But, dear Jane, I cannot forget that you 
 then said you would cheerfully relieve me of my 
 promise to purchase the new dress and set of furs, 
 and do all in your power to economize and recover 
 our position. I was infatuated, and madly hoped 
 that I might be more lucky another time. I took 
 undue advantage of your gentleness." He could 
 proceed no farther ; he wept. 
 
 Mrs. L resumed. " That day I went to my 
 
 father and borrowed twenty pounds for present 
 emergencies. The progress of our ruin from that 
 time was very rapid. Only four days after that we 
 sustained another loss from the same cause. Losses 
 appeared to make Charles more reckless than ever,
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 133 
 
 until on one occasion the whole of the stock was 
 lost at a throw. My beloved father then kindly 
 came forward and compounded with the winner, 
 so as to prevent the removal of a single article 
 from the shop. But having done this, he said 
 in justice to his other children he would do no 
 more. About another year passed away in the same 
 way as the last few months, when, through losses 
 of property and the entire failure of Charles' 
 health, we were obliged to leave our house in Ox- 
 ford street, having nothing for our support but the 
 sum for which the business was sold, and a small 
 annual amount, the proceeds of some funded prop- 
 erty, the principal of which could not be touched. 
 We took lodgings in Hart street, Bloomsbury, had 
 the advice of eminent physicians and took journeys, 
 and remained at Cheltenham and Hastings for a 
 few weeks. Our available stock of cash was very 
 nearly exhausted, when, finding it impossible to 
 maintain our former appearances, and too proud to 
 be under the observation of those who knew us in 
 better circumstances, we sought the seclusion of 
 this humble retreat." 
 
 Mrs. L hid her face in her handkerchief 
 
 and yielded to a paroxysm of emotion and wept. 
 As soon as she recovered she turned to me and
 
 134 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 said, "Pardon these tears; I hope they are not 
 signs of rebellion, for with all our sufferings the 
 Lord has brought us to acknowledge 
 
 ' His strokes are fewer than our crimes, 
 And lighter than our guilt.' 
 
 I am sure that is your feeling, Charles, and it is 
 mine." 
 
 "Ah, Jane," replied Mr. L , "it is, but I 
 
 have been the guilty cause of all; and I want 
 words to express my wonder at the mercy of God 
 in sparing me, that I may repent and believe in 
 Him whose blood cleanseth from all sin cleanseth 
 from all sin." 
 
 As he repeated the last four words, I said, " Yes, 
 this is a provision worthy of God, who delights to 
 pardon, and yet tells us that without shedding of 
 blood there is no remission. He provides Christ 
 as the atoning Lamb." 
 
 " It is wondrous love," lie exclaimed, " that God 
 did not leave sinners to perish ; it is wondrous that 
 he did not cut me down, for my sins were against 
 the knowledge I received in my early childhood. 
 Had he not afflicted me and kept the rod applied, 
 my soul must have been lost. I often repeated 
 a verse which I think I now understand: it is 
 this:
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 135 
 
 ' Jesus sought me when a stranger, 
 
 Wandering from the fold of God ; 
 lie, to rescue me from danger, 
 Interposed his precious blood.' " 
 
 Perceiving; si<rns of exhaustion in Mr. L , I 
 
 read parts of the fortieth Psalm and parts of the 
 second chapter of the Epistle to the Ephesians, in- 
 terspersed with a few remarks, offered prayer and 
 left. 
 
 Two days after, very early in the morning, a boy 
 
 came bringing a note from Mrs. L , begging 
 
 that I would come as early as I possibly could. 
 
 From the earnest terms of the note I hasted 
 to this chamber of affliction, where I expected to 
 see the patient in the last struggle. To my sur- 
 prise, he was sitting up in his bed, his cheek 
 greatly flushed, his eye beaming with unusual 
 brightness as it flashed upon me on entering the 
 room, and his voice deeper and louder than I had 
 ever heard it. He said, " I am glad to see you. I 
 want your advice very much. I have not only 
 grievously sinned myself, but I have led others into 
 sin. I want to warn them. I have written a let- 
 ter with dear Jane's help. I want you to hear it 
 
 and improve it for me." Mrs. L then read 
 
 the following letter :
 
 136 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " DEAR P : 
 
 " You have not forgotten L . You know in 
 
 what style I lived. I have lost all ruined myself 
 and my dear wife an outcast from my family. I 
 
 first led you to C 's. There my misery began. 
 
 Shun such places if you would escape hell. I am 
 now dying in an obscure part of London. I want 
 to spare you the agonies I now suffer. The dice 
 were mischievous, but you know the other sins and 
 vices we committed. Keep to your homes, your 
 wives and your Bibles. This is my dying effort. 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " CHARLES L ." 
 
 A copy of this letter was sent to four of his 
 companions. 
 
 Mr. L said, " May I beg you to warn young 
 
 men against the vices of betting and gambling? 
 You have heard my career of sin, so that you may 
 form an idea how deeply I had fallen. Let me 
 beg that you will make use of my case at any time 
 and in any way, so that you do not injure the feel- 
 ings of my innocent relatives. I can confide in 
 your professional honour. I never heard gambling 
 denounced from the pulpit. I knew it was wrong, 
 and yet I persevered."
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 137 
 
 " You needed," I said, " the hand of God to be 
 laid upon you to arrest you in your course of sin, 
 and he has done it." 
 
 "Yes," he replied, " I believe he has changed 
 my heart; and if he should raise me up to health, 
 I hope his Spirit would help me to warn others and 
 to tell them of God's forgiving love in Christ. 
 Bless the Lord, O my soul, who forgiveth all thine 
 iniquities." 
 
 His excitement at this time was greater than on 
 any former occasion. It was with difficulty that 
 he was induced to be quiet, until I said, " I fear I 
 shall do you harm by remaining longer, as I keep 
 you talking so much." 
 
 He meekly said, " You will read and pray first, 
 won't you ? It always refreshes me and comforts 
 poor dear Jane." 
 
 I read Scripture portions from the hundred and 
 third Psalm and the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, 
 prayed and retired. 
 
 In threading my way through the labyrinth of 
 courts and alleys, and thinking of what had tran- 
 spired in that chamber, my sad experience in wit- 
 nessing many pneumonic cases, seconded probably 
 by a higher influence, impressed my mind with 
 these words, "Once more, once more, only once
 
 138 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 more," as though a spirit uttered them to my in- 
 most soul. It mattered not what else claimed my 
 attention, whether reading or conversation, whether 
 in company or alone, these words had a fast hold 
 on my spirit, and seemed to be constantly repeated, 
 so that when I retired to my bed I could not sleep 
 for the ringing of these words in my ears. 
 
 I had told my friend and guardian, with whom 
 I was living, " not to be surprised if, when he came 
 down to breakfast, he should find me off to my 
 patient," and assigned as my reason "that there 
 seemed to be a spirit haunting me all day saying, 
 ' Once more, once more, only once more/ " 
 
 This elicited no small amount of bantering 
 about " nervous excitement, functional derangement 
 of the liver, superstition and the folly of allowing 
 the mind to be the vassal of an impression." 
 
 However, at daybreak I arose, took a slight re- 
 freshment and went to the house of the sick man. 
 The candle was burning in the chamber. I gently 
 knocked at the street door, which was quickly 
 
 opened by Mrs. F , a married sister of Mrs. 
 
 L , who had sat up the whole night to assist in 
 
 attending on the dying man. I apologized for 
 coming at such an early hour, saying, "I was 
 uneasy until I came." " How singular !" exclaim-
 
 THE PENITENT GAMBLER. 139 
 
 ed Mrs. F ; " brother Charles has frequently 
 
 said in the night he was sure you would come 
 very early." 
 
 As I entered the room, Mr. L caught my 
 
 eye and said, " Once more, only once more shall 
 we, dear sir, worship together on earth. The con- 
 flict is sharp, but it will soon be over. Christ is 
 with me. He has forgiven me. His Spirit keeps 
 my hold on him. Pray for me, do pray for me, 
 that the Spirit may not leave me. Pray for my 
 precious wife." 
 
 I repeated the twenty-third Psalm and the first 
 three verses of 2 Cor. chap, v., and then prayed 
 with him. When we rose from our knees he was 
 lying perfectly calm, and breathing so feebly that 
 we should have thought his spirit had taken its 
 flight had not his lips moved. He presently 
 opened his eyes and stretched his hand toward me, 
 grasped mine, and, in a tone scarcely audible, said, 
 " Thank you, my dear sir, for all your instructions 
 and prayers. The Lord bless you !" 
 
 From this moment he appeared to be rapidly 
 sinking. As we leaned over him, repeating some 
 portions of holy writ, he was heard to say, " Won- 
 derful grace" " Precious Christ" " Forgiveness" 
 " Cleanseth from all sin." " From all sin" were
 
 140 RICHES WITHOUT WJNOS. 
 
 the last words he uttered. About half-past tea 
 o'clock that morning his spirit took its flight. 
 
 This painful but true narrative will illustrate 
 the infatuating power of sin, the present miseries a 
 sinful course entails, and the amazing riches of sov- 
 ereign grace in changing the heart and granting an 
 assurance of pardon through the blood of Christ. 
 
 I have no doubt on my own mind that Mr. L 
 
 was a believing, repentant applicant to the Saviour, 
 and that he obtained mercy. It was an affecting 
 scene to behold a young man, having wasted a for- 
 tune, wellnigh ruined his soul, bowed down the 
 spirit of a lovely and loving wife, and destroyed a 
 fine physical constitution at the age of twenty- 
 seven. The incident loudly calls upon young men 
 to resist the first temptations to depart from the 
 path of virtue.
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 
 
 EN fifteen twenty and seven and three 
 thirty. Yes, there it is, complete ; quite 
 complete." Mr. Carbury pored over the 
 page which he had been adding up with a 
 look of tranquil satisfaction nay more, with a 
 fondness that made it difficult to turn away from 
 it ; so fascinated was he that he was proceeding to 
 add up once more the figures whose sum had so 
 charmed him, not from any doubt of his accuracy, 
 but to prolong the gratifying effect they had pro- 
 duced. Before he had counted up many hundreds 
 he was interrupted by a smart rap at the door. 
 
 "Seven hundred and fifteen who's there?" he 
 cried impatiently. 
 
 " A friend," answered a chirpy voice. " Shall I 
 come in ?" And at the same instant a gentleman 
 somewhat in years introduced himself, and closing 
 the door, advanced toward the fire, taking the 
 answer for granted. 
 
 141
 
 142 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " What a man you are for business 1" he cried, 
 rubbing his hands and warming them at the fire. 
 " I've been to your house and told your wife that 
 she ought to make you keep better hours." 
 
 "Very fine!" said Mr. Carbury, keeping his 
 finger on the number at which he had arrived ; 
 "people like you, who have nothing to do, may 
 talk so, but not men of business." 
 
 "Nothing to do!" said the stranger, fixing his 
 bright eyes on the merchant ; " why, if I did it all 
 there wouldn't be a man in London that would 
 carry on the business that I should." 
 
 " Why, what have you to do ?" said Mr. Car- 
 bury, seeing uneasily that the intruder had laid 
 down his hat and gloves, taken off his comforter, 
 unbuttoned his coat and put his feet on the fender. 
 
 " What ?" was the reply ; " why, anything and 
 everything." 
 
 " And who's your employer ?" said Mr. Carbury, 
 taking a pinch of snuff from the proffered snuff- 
 box with his left hand and no very good grace. 
 
 " Anybody and everybody that wants me that's 
 the company I am foreman to ; so if my work 
 doesn't beat yours my name isn't Jacob Hart." 
 
 " You are always full of your nonsense," said 
 Mr. Carbury, who was even more annoyed at what
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 143 
 
 he feared might be the purport of the visit than at 
 the interruption; "but the truth is/' he continued, 
 " I really am particularly engaged to-night, and 
 and as you say, my wife expects me and " 
 
 " And," said Mr. Hart, " you'd like me to cut the 
 matter short, I see. Now, there's the beauty of 
 dealing with a man of business ; you see I take 
 you at once, and if you're only as prompt as I am, 
 I'll be off in five minutes." 
 
 Mr. Carbury's face grew dark ; he screwed up 
 his mouth, and was evidently entrenching himself 
 behind a premeditated flat denial. 
 
 In the mean time, Mr. Hart, tapping his box and 
 crossing his legs, having offered the merchant an- 
 other pinch, which was silently declined, fearlessly 
 commenced his attack: "That's your credit-book, 
 isn't it, or cash-book, or whatever you call it, con- 
 taining your own assets ?" 
 
 Mr. Carbury looked indignantly surprised at the 
 question. 
 
 " I guessed it from the expression of your coun- 
 tenance before I came in." 
 
 Again Mr. Carbury looked surprised. 
 
 "Well, the truth is," said Mr. Hart, answering 
 the look, " the door being ajar, before I knocked I 
 peeped in to see if any one were with you, and I'm
 
 141 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 sure, friend Carbury, you looked too happy to be 
 counting up anything but net proceeds." 
 
 " I wonder, as you saw that I was so engaged, 
 that you interrupted me," said the merchant, 
 gruffly. 
 
 "Oh, never mind; I see you've kept your finger 
 on the place, and you'd got to seven hundred and 
 fifteen ; now the minute I'm gone, you can begin 
 again with seven hundred." 
 
 Mr. Carbury's face exhibited pure astonishment. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" said his companion, "I knew you'd 
 stare; but I'm in serious earnest, and though I was 
 in bed yesterday with lumbago, and the doctor 
 warned me not to go out in this north-east wind, 
 yet so pressing was the case that here I am ; and 
 I'm sure you won't let your old friend run such a 
 risk for nothing." 
 
 "You're an incorrigible beggar," said Mr. Car- 
 bury. "I really have nothing to spare." 
 
 " Nothing that you will spare," said Mr. Hart 
 "plenty that you could that fifteen pounds, for in- 
 stance, you want no more than the man in the 
 moon, and if you're a wise man you'll hand it 
 over." 
 
 " You must think money very easily got," said 
 Mr. Carbury, angrily, " to suppose that I should
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 145 
 
 part with such a sum without any rhyme or 
 reason." 
 
 "I can't say much about rhyme" said Mr. Hart; 
 " but reason I can give you plenty. Dick Smedley 
 is in trouble, his wife is ill, his children are scat- 
 tered to the four winds." 
 
 " Dick Smedley !" said the merchant, in disgust. 
 " I'm sick of the name; what claim has he on me ?" 
 
 "Many," said Mr. Hart, in a subdued voice, 
 after a short pause ; " but I will give you only one : 
 we were all close friends in boyhood, and at that 
 time Smedley's home was yours." 
 
 " Pooh, nonsense !" said Mr. Carbury ; " I'm sure 
 I've paid back whatever I owed on that score ; and 
 as to the friendship of boys, what sort of a tie is 
 that? I've known nothing of Sraedley ever since 
 ever since " 
 
 "Ever since he grew poor," interrupted Mr. 
 Hart, "and borrowed money, which, however, he 
 paid again." 
 
 " Yes, and a deal of trouble I had to get it." 
 
 "Served you right if you'd had ten times more," 
 said Mr. Hart, putting his hands on his knees and 
 looking steadily into the fire. 
 
 "I should like to know why?" said the mer- 
 chant, incensed. 
 10
 
 146 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " Should you ? Then I'll tell you why : he wanted 
 the money and you didn't." 
 
 "Keally, Mr. Hart," said Mr. Carbury, rising, 
 "I am at a loss to understand what right you 
 have" 
 
 " Sit down, John Carbury, sit down, and call me 
 Jacob, and not Mr. Hart, and I'll satisfy you on 
 that point too. I have a right to do it, because I 
 love you and want to do you good because I am 
 your friend and am interested in your interests. I 
 tell you, John, that early friendship is not a rope 
 of sand with me, and if you can forget those days 
 when you and I and poor Dick stood by the fish- 
 pond on his father's lawn, and he went in head 
 over heels to fetch you out because you had tipped 
 over from the rockery and were nearly drowned, 
 I don't. No, nor I don't forget how he was the 
 first to help us out of our troubles, and to buy 
 pleasures for us with his pocket-money ; and I re- 
 member a certain orphan boy that would have had 
 but a solitary holiday in the old school-house if 
 Dick Smedley had not carried him off in triumph 
 to his pleasant home." 
 
 The merchant shaded his face with his hand. 
 
 "Come, Jack," said Mr. Hart, "give me the 
 fifteen pounds; with what I have collected and
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 147 
 
 what I can spare myself, it will about make up the 
 sum." 
 
 Mr. Carbury didn't answer; Mr. Hart looked 
 steadily at him for a few seconds, then proceeded 
 to button his coat, adjust his comforter and take 
 his hat, stick and gloves. When these preparations 
 were over, he said in a calm voice, in which firm- 
 ness and tenderness were mingled, " Now, friend 
 John, those fifteen pounds ; the night wears, and I 
 want to settle the affair before I go to bed." 
 
 Mr. Carbury shook his head and looked in an- 
 other direction. 
 
 " You won't ?" said Mr. Hart " you reaUy won't ? 
 Then all I can say, John Carbury, is, I am very 
 sorry for you ;" and with some emotion he advanced 
 to the door. " Dick won't be the loser," he said ; 
 " believe me, it was more for your sake than his I 
 came to you." 
 
 " Stop !" said Mr. Carbury, as the door had 
 nearly closed behind his visitor. " I didn't say I 
 would not give anything ; you can't expect a man 
 who has worked hard for everything he has to lay 
 down such a sum at a moment's notice ; you know 
 nothing of the vicissitudes of business ; you have 
 no family dependent on you." 
 
 "We won't compare notes," said Mr. Hart,
 
 148 KICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 whose self-denying and universal philanthropy 
 was well known ; " you know that your realized 
 property beyond the chances of your business is 
 already enough to provide for your family every- 
 body knows it, and I know it; and the pittance 
 that I asked of you wouldn't be the weight of a 
 straw in your balance." 
 
 The merchant slowly took up a cheque-book and 
 dipped his pen into the ink. Seeing the motion, 
 Mr. Hart again advanced toward him. 
 
 "Whose name?" said Mr. Carbury, sullenly, 
 not looking up. 
 
 " I wish I could say," Mr. Hart replied, rever- 
 ently, " in the name of God, and feel that it was 
 the free gift of love from one of his people to help 
 another." 
 
 " His people !" said Mr. Carbury, peevishly. " I 
 tell you what, Jacob, you don't go the way to con- 
 vert me to your way of thinking by the way you 
 go on." 
 
 "How do you mean?" said Mr. Hart, quickly. 
 
 " Why, you're always coming to me for some 
 Christian in trouble; it appears to me that you 
 Christians are always in trouble." 
 
 "I don't think so," said Mr. Hart. 
 
 " Oh yes ! There's your favourite preacher, Mr.
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 149 
 
 Goodman, is for ever telling us 'that we must 
 through much tribulation enter into the kingdom/ 
 and that l man is born to trouble/ and so forth. I 
 confess it seems to me that what you call the world 
 has the best of it by a good deal." 
 
 " So ho !" said Mr. Hart ; " stop there. If you 
 were to make such a mistake as that in your ledger, 
 I think you'd want me for a clerk to come and 
 help you." 
 
 "Well, I only know that I'm always meeting 
 with cases of 'afflicted Christians/ as they call 
 themselves." 
 
 " No doubt ; and there are many more that you 
 never met with ; but what of that ? Do you know 
 the origin of all suffering and affliction ?" 
 
 " Improvidence and idleness," said the merchant. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! you've taken one of the streams 
 for the fountain-head, man," said Mr. Hart, with 
 great animation. " Sin, sin is the cause of all suf- 
 fering : no sooner did man become a sinner than 
 he became a sufferer ; and as all men are born into 
 the world sinners, so all are born liable to suffer- 
 ing, and all do suffer more or less not Christians 
 only, but every child of Adam." 
 
 The merchant looked thoughtful. 
 
 " You, for instance/' said Mr. Hart, " although
 
 150 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 you are rich, have had your troubles; you had 
 them in your youth, and you carry about with you 
 the seeds of a disease which often embitters your 
 life, and will ultimately end it you've often told 
 me so ; yet you scorn to belong to what you call 
 Christians." 
 
 " Well, then, I suppose we are all in the same 
 case," said the merchant, proceeding to write the 
 cheque, as if willing to close the discussion. 
 
 " By no means, so don't believe it," said Mr. 
 Hart with energy. "Never mind the cheque, 
 Jack. Listen to me ; this is of more consequence : 
 every sinner is a sufferer. So far the Church and 
 the world are alike; but directly a sinner is at 
 peace with God through Jesns Christ he has ac- 
 cess to an unfailing treasury of strength, consola- 
 tion, peace in short, the supply of all that he 
 needs, and is sure of being carried through all his 
 troubles victoriously." 
 
 " Then there is no necessity," said Mr. Carbury, 
 with something of a sneer, " for you and me to in- 
 terfere in Smedley's affairs, if, as I am informed, 
 he has become a Christian, according to your ren- 
 dering of the word." 
 
 u Now, Jack, be honest, and deal with this case 
 with the same common sense that you would exer-
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 151 
 
 cise in the affairs of life. God works by means, 
 and when he would deliver o%e of his children out 
 of a trial, he turns the hearts of others toward 
 them, and thus supplies the needful relief, as in this 
 very instance, when he has so kindled up my affec- 
 tions and those of several others for poor Dick 
 that I verily believe we shall crush the very head 
 of all his embarrassments." 
 
 " I think I could tell you of a few cases," said the 
 merchant, " where Christians, so called, are not de- 
 livered. What do you think of Watson, who has 
 all his life thought like you ? See how his family 
 have turned out ; and now the only child in whom 
 he has had any comfort is dying with consump- 
 tion." 
 
 " I wish you knew the Bible, John," said Mr. 
 Hart ; " but although you seldom read it, you may 
 chance to remember an account there of three men 
 being cast into a fiery furnace, so hot that it slew 
 their executioners, while the three victims walked 
 loose in the midst of the flames, having with them 
 a fourth, ( whose form was like unto the Son of 
 God,' and who was the Son of God ; they came out 
 of that ordeal unharmed in their bodies and 
 strengthened in their souls. Thus does God vary 
 his dealings with his people ; some he delivers at
 
 152 lilCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 the very mouth of the furnace ; others he suffers to 
 enter, but he goes in *with them, and his presence 
 is enough to cool the hottest flame. Pardon me, 
 John," he said, seeing the merchant was about to 
 interrupt him ; " have you seen Watson lately ?" 
 
 Mr. Carbury shook his head. 
 
 " Go to him, then, and you'll be as much sur- 
 prised as was the heathen king. He has such a 
 steadfast hold upon the hope set before him that in 
 a few years he should be for ever with her who is 
 now fading before his eyes, rejoicing together in His 
 presence who has purchased for them an eternal 
 weight of glory, and whom they have together 
 loved and worshipped on earth, that he would tell 
 you in the midst of his tears, ' It is well with me, 
 it is well with the child ; Christ is with us, we 
 want nothing.' " 
 
 Mr. Carbury leaned his head upon his hand and 
 did not reply. 
 
 " John Carbury, my friend," said Mr. Plart, im- 
 pressively, "you are a man of the world; you 
 scorn any other religion than just so much as you 
 think will preserve the State and keep the mob in 
 order ; now tell me if you were visited as Watson 
 has been, and found this night when you returned 
 home that mortal sickness had laid its hand upon
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 153 
 
 the very desire of your eyes, where would you go 
 for comfort ? I'll tell you what you would do," he 
 continued, seeing that Mr. Carbury remained silent: 
 "you would be greatly shocked and suffer inde- 
 scribably ; but you would harden yourself to bear 
 up manfully before the world, and you would try 
 to divert your mind with that," pointing to the 
 cash-book, "and seek to forget that those for whom 
 you had accumulated your thousands had been 
 taken away ; and this would serve for a while ; 
 but presently there would come a remembrancer, 
 that gnawing pain reminding you of the enemy 
 that lurks within ; then you must go to a sick bed, 
 to wait, with a vague apprehension of what might 
 come after it, for death is not the end of a man, you 
 know." 
 
 "You are clever at drawing pictures, Jacob," 
 said Mr. Carbury, whose voice was not quite 
 even. 
 
 "I am right, John," replied his friend; "and 
 so convinced am I that godliness hath the promise 
 of the life that now is, as well as of that which is 
 to come, that I would choose the gospel for my 
 rule of life if there were no world but this. You 
 laugh at us and call us fools, but it is you, and such 
 as you, that are the fools, John, wise as you think
 
 154 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 yourselves; and no man that has ever tasted the 
 gain of godliness would change with the best of 
 you. Peace of conscience, a tranquil resting of all 
 cares on God, a will subdued, every lawful pleas- 
 ure sweetened tenfold, a hope that brightens as the 
 end approaches, oh who wouldn't be a Chris- 
 tian ?" said Mr. Hart, who had been ejaculating to 
 himself while* buttoning his coat and again adjust- 
 ing his comforter. 
 
 " Why, man, you're in an ecstasy," said the mer- 
 chant. 
 
 " Counting up my treasures, John," said Mr. 
 Hart, with a nod, " as you were doing yours when 
 I came in ; and mine will be growing brighter and 
 brighter when yours will have crumbled into dust. 
 So good-night." 
 
 " Here, take the cheque," said Mr. Carbury. 
 
 " Is it willingly given ?" asked Mr. Hart, as he 
 put his hand out with some hesitation. 
 
 " Oh yes !" replied the merchant ; " and if 
 there's anything I can do for Dick but, Jacob, I 
 thought Christians ought to be honest, and Smed- 
 ley's extravagance is, in my opinion, dishonest" 
 
 "He was extravagant, John," said Mr. Hart, 
 with a smile, " when he was a man of the world. 
 Since God's grace dealt with him in his time of ad-
 
 THE ODD FIFTEEN. 155 
 
 versity, he has abhorred himself for it, and I think 
 I may promise perfect amendment that way." 
 
 " Well, you'll let me know how you settle mat- 
 ters, and if I can help " 
 
 " All well," said Mr. Hart, putting the cheque 
 in his pocket; "I'll call on you to-morrow, and 
 you shall hear." 
 
 When he was gone the merchant mechanically 
 turned to his cash-book, but the figures had lost 
 their charm ; an uncomfortable conviction that the 
 day could not be far distant when the book and its 
 treasures would pass into other hands came strongly 
 upon him, and for the time his idol had fallen 
 before the truth. 
 
 He closed his office and returned home, deter- 
 mining to have further conversation with his friend 
 Jacob upon a faith which, according to his view, 
 had so much to recommend it. "Of course, when 
 one looks beyond this life, it is all true what he 
 says ; but it is quite a new idea of his, quite new 
 to me, that Christians are the best off in this world. 
 Yet I can easily understand that, as he puts it, it is 
 so ; and if so, he is right when he says Christians 
 are the wise men and worldlings are the fools."
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 
 
 A TALE OF GOD'S PROVIDENCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 'HE twilight of a cold November day had 
 closed, and the shades of night were falling 
 around a humble cottage in a lonely glen in 
 the Highlands of Perthshire, when a poor 
 couple who resided there, John Martin and his 
 wife, sat down by the decaying embers of a turf 
 fire to consult together if they could devise any 
 plan to raise enough money to pay their rent, which 
 would be due at the rapidly approaching Martin- 
 mas term, for as yet they were almost totally un- 
 provided with the means of doing so. 
 
 The causes of this deficiency were not far to seek, 
 for the season throughout had been wet, cold and 
 backward, and John, who was a poor cottar, was 
 almost entirely dependent on the produce of a small 
 piece of ground which he rented along with his 
 cottage, and on which he was in the habit of raising 
 
 156
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 157 
 
 oats and potatoes. But this year his crops had 
 almost entirely failed, and a good deal of sickness 
 in his family had been the means of nearly exhaust- 
 ing what little money he had. The prospect of an 
 early and severe winter, too for already a fall of 
 snow covered the ground and the frost was keen 
 and biting increased his anxieties, as such a state 
 of the weather seemed, for the present at least, to 
 blight his hopes of obtaining employment in the 
 fields. 
 
 John was a decent, industrious, sober man, and, 
 though piously disposed upon the whole, was rather 
 of a desponding disposition, and now, as "things 
 seemed," to use his own expression, " to have been 
 going entirely against him of late," his spirits had 
 sunk to the lowest pitch, and all the eiforts of his 
 wife to cheer and encourage him by holding out 
 brighter hopes for the future proved unavailing. 
 She was of an entirely different disposition from 
 her husband, being not only piously inclined, but 
 in truth and reality a servant of God and a hum- 
 ble follower of Christ. She was a lineal descend- 
 ant of one of those worthies who in the time of the 
 persecution under the Second Charles had " sealed 
 their testimony" to the reality of the principles 
 they professed with their blood, and she inherited
 
 158 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 a large portion of the noble spirit which had dis- 
 tinguished her ancestors, for her courage and hope, 
 even in the most trying circumstances, never had 
 been known to fail, and her trust in God and re- 
 liance on his all-sufficient aid in " times of trouble " 
 were strong and enduring. And now, having put 
 her three children to bed and seen them fall 
 asleep, that they might not interrupt the conversa- 
 tion between her husband and herself, she was try- 
 ing to inspire him with confidence similar to her 
 own, while she suggested any expedient likely to 
 avail them in their present emergency. She could, 
 however, think of nothing better than to propose 
 an application to their landlord to see if he would 
 grant them "a little time." To this plan John 
 strongly objected, for though the proprietor of his 
 cottage and ground was a great and wealthy noble- 
 man whose estates covered many miles of the 
 surrounding country whose forests abounded with 
 deer and other game, his rivers with fish and his 
 pastures with cattle who lived in great state and 
 splendour, and " fared sumptuously every day " 
 yet there was about John Martin a native pride, or 
 perhaps, to speak more correctly, a strong sense of 
 honour and integrity, which he shared in common 
 with most of the Scottish peasantry, and which
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 159 
 
 made him shrink from the thought of " owing any 
 man anything," let his situation be ever so superior 
 to his own or his rank ever so high ; so he told his 
 wife that he would be reduced to the last extremity 
 before he \vould bring himself to consent to make 
 such an application. 
 
 " Well then, John," said Marion, after a mo- 
 ment's reflection, " since that is your determination, 
 I see but one other thing we can do, and that is to 
 sell our cow, in order, if possible, to make out the 
 necessary sum. 
 
 " What ! sell poor Crummie ?" * exclaimed John, 
 in a tone of mingled surprise and dismay; "and 
 what then will our children do for milk? You 
 know it is their chief dependence in the way of 
 food ; and besides, even if that were not the case, 
 I'm sure it would break their hearts to part with 
 her, she is such a favourite with them. No, Marion, 
 you must try to think of something else; I can 
 never consent to that." 
 
 " I know it will be hard on them, poor things ! 
 but they must learn to put up with greater hard- 
 ships still, if it be God's will to appoint them, and 
 if times mend with us we can buy them what little 
 milk they require. And I can think of nothing 
 
 * The familiar name for a cow among the Scottish peasantry.
 
 1GO RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 else, John. You know you would not borrow the 
 money even if you knew any person who could 
 lend it ; and as you will not ask delay of the duke, 
 there is nothing for us that I can see but to part 
 with the cow." 
 
 " It seems hard for us to part with our one cow 
 for the sake of a man who has so many of his own, 
 and so much of this world's wealth besides," replied 
 John, doubtfully ; " and to think that when it is 
 gone we shall, in a manner, have little or nothing 
 else to depend on !" 
 
 "'Though the flock shall be cutoff from the 
 fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls, yet I 
 will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my 
 salvation'" (Habakkuk iii. 17, 18), said Marion, 
 gravely. "Oh, John, remember that though we 
 should be deprived of all else, we have still our 
 God, and ought we not to believe his own blessed 
 promises, and to feel that 'He that spared not 
 his own Son, but delivered him up for us all/ 
 will surely not withhold any 'good thing' from 
 those who love and trust him ? I know it is hard 
 to flesh and blood to submit to all that our God 
 appoints for us, but ought we not to try? It was 
 a good saying of an old divine, ' We ought to trust 
 even when we cannot trace ; ' and if you will but
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 161 
 
 try to do so, dear John, I am persuaded you will 
 find that in spite of present appearances God has 
 much good in store for us yet." 
 
 " He has much good even in possession for me, 
 when he has blessed me with such a wife as you, 
 Marion," answered John, affectionately ; " and I 
 feel I'm very wrong and ungrateful to repine as I 
 do, when I should be thankful to him for you, 
 though I had never received another blessing at his 
 hand." 
 
 " Rather be thankful for the measure of content- 
 ment and resignation to his holy will which he 
 has put into my heart, John, for these are his gifts, 
 too. Indeed, what have we that we have not re- 
 ceived from him?" said Marion, gently. "And 
 see here," she added, as she rose, stirred up the fire 
 and lighted her lamp "see what a quantity of nice 
 flax I've spun, and I hope to get a good price for it, 
 too, some of these days." So saying she opened a 
 cupboard and displayed the fruits of her industry 
 stored on the shelves ; for the events we are nar- 
 rating took place some fifty or sixty years ago, be- 
 fore the progress of modern invention had so much 
 superseded the efforts of the thrifty housewife in 
 this department. 
 
 " I hope to make something of that, John," she 
 11
 
 162 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 continued cheerfully as she drew her wheel toward 
 her and began to spin. "And then the frost will 
 soon break up, and you will get some work in my 
 lord's fields, for Mr. Stewart, the factor, was here 
 to-day when you were out, and he tells me there is 
 to be a complete drainage set afoot whenever the 
 soft, weather returns ; and then, you know, the more 
 punctual you are in paying your rent, the readier 
 he'll be to give you employment; so I hope you'll 
 come to see that the sale of poor Crummie is the 
 only thing for us, after all." John did not reply, 
 but sat musing in silence for some minutes. It 
 was hard for him to reconcile himself to such a 
 thing, for the same pride which makes a Scottish 
 peasant revolt from the thought of owing debt, at- 
 taches the idea of great humiliation to being obliged 
 to sell property of any kind in order to raise the 
 funds necessary to defray it; so a considerable 
 struggle between pride and duty took place in his 
 mind before he could bring himself to adopt such 
 an alternative. At length his sterling principle 
 triumphed. " It is my duty," he said, in a hesi- 
 tating voice : " yes, wife, you are right ; come of it 
 what may, I see it must be done ;" and he sup- 
 pressed a sigh as he added, " and there's no time 
 to lose. Let me see to-morrow is Wednesday,
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 163 
 
 and Thursday is the day of the cattle fair at D , 
 
 and I must be off by daybreak, for it will be as 
 much as I can manage to get there in time with the 
 cow, the days are so short just now." 
 
 Marion did not fail to express her cordial appro- 
 bation of her husband's determination ; and then, 
 like a good and prudent wife as she was, instead 
 of following up her victory by expatiating on the 
 soundness of the advice she had given him and 
 his prudence in taking it, she judiciously dropped 
 the subject and endeavoured to turn his thoughts 
 to other matters. But it would not do ; poor John 
 continued absent and dispirited throughout the 
 remainder of the evening ; and Marion, seeing the 
 fruitlessness of her efforts, proposed, after he had 
 taken the supper she set before him, that as he 
 would require to get up very early on the morrow 
 to prepare for his journey, he should retire to bed. 
 John assented, and his wife rose, and taking from, 
 the shelf a well-worn Bible, which had been a sort 
 of heirloom in the family for many generations, 
 she placed it on the table, and instead of turning 
 to the portion of Scripture which should come in 
 course for the evening " exercise," she selected the 
 thirty-fourth Psalm and desired him to read it. 
 John obeyed, and as he proceeded he found the
 
 164 ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 sentiments of that beautiful Psalm so appropriate 
 to their situation that he was not long in perceiv- 
 ing the significance of his wife's choice of it; and 
 the impression it left on his mind produced a 
 much more salutary effect than if she had spent 
 hours in endeavouring to convince him of the duty 
 of trusting in God and of the sinfulness of his 
 own conduct in repining at his most righteous will ! 
 And strengthened and soothed, if not reconciled to 
 the duty that lay before him on the morrow, John, 
 after joining with his wife in prayer for the divine 
 guidance, protection and aid, went to bed. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE next morning, long before the first faint 
 streak of dawn had appeared in the wintry sky, 
 John Martin rose to make the few and simple 
 preparations necessary for his journey, while 
 Marion took a light and went to the cowshed to 
 milk poor Crummie before she should be sent away 
 to be sold. It was with a heavy heart that the 
 poor woman went to perform this office for the last 
 time; for, in spite of her high-wrought Christian, 
 sentiments and real Christian principle, she was but 
 a weak, erring mortal after all, and human frailty
 
 THE DIAMOND BRO^CII. 165 
 
 would at times assert its sway over her. But still 
 her confidence in God was never entirely over- 
 come ; and on the present occasion, even in the 
 midst of her depression, her mind was upborne by 
 a sense of the divine presence, and her heart was 
 strengthened and cheered by a remembrance of the 
 precious promises of his Holy Word. So, master- 
 ing her feelings as best she could, she returned to 
 the kitchen, her task over, to give her husband his 
 breakfast, with a steadfast determination to do her 
 duty and to leave the rest to God. Few words 
 were exchanged between the couple during the 
 repast, for a deep depression still hung on John's 
 spirits increased probably by the thought that 
 the present was the last time that Crumniie's milk 
 should form a part of their morning meal. When 
 it was over, he rose, and taking from a drawer an 
 old pocketbook, in which to carry the money he 
 hoped to receive for the cow, he put on his great 
 coat, threw his plaid across his shoulders, and, as 
 the first faint signs of daylight now began to 
 appear, he told Marion he was ready to set out on 
 his journey. She accordingly accompanied him to 
 the cowshed, and taking a halter from the wall, she 
 attached it to Crumniie's neck ; and then patting, 
 for the last time, the sides of the poor animal, as
 
 166 RICHES WITHOUT WINOS. 
 
 she put the rope into her husband's hand, she 
 turned away to hide her fast-gathering tears. But 
 quickly recovering herself, she asked John when 
 she might expect to see him home again. " Well, 
 even if I should be fortunate enough to find a pur- 
 chaser for the cow, it will be much too late for me 
 
 to leave D after the fair is over on Thursday ; 
 
 but if all goes well, you may depend on seeing me 
 by Friday at sunset. And bidding his wife 
 " good-bye," he turned to depart. 
 
 " ' The Lord bless thee and keep thee ; the Lord 
 make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious 
 unto thee ; the Lord lift up his countenance upon 
 thee, and give thee peace!'" (Num. vi. 24-26), 
 said Marion, fervently, as she returned her hus- 
 band's "farewell;" and surely, if earnestness of 
 appeal has power to call down a blessing from on 
 high, John went forth on his journey blessed of 
 God. After thus commending him to the only 
 all-sufficient Guide and Protector, Marion stood 
 for a few minutes watching him as his form and 
 that of the cow diminished in the distance, and 
 then she lifted up her heart in gratitude to God, as 
 the thought crossed her mind : " How thankful I 
 should feel that, amid my other anxieties, I don't 
 require to warn John to be careful of the money
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 167 
 
 when he gets it, as many a poor wife might have 
 to do if her husband was going to encounter the 
 temptations of a fair. But John is as sober as he 
 is industrious, and I've no reason to fear for him ; 
 the Lord be praised for it!" And so saying, 
 Marion re-entered her cottage to set about her 
 household duties. 
 
 Leaving her for the present, we shall accompany 
 
 John to D . He had not walked more than a 
 
 mile or two when the glorious sun arose, lighting 
 up the grand and majestic features of the surround- 
 ing landscape beautiful even in its unfamiliar 
 snowy aspect and shining on the solitary pedes- 
 trian as he journeyed on, it helped to shed cheer- 
 fulness and hope into the heart which his pious 
 wife's parting blessing had tended much to 
 strengthen and encourage. 
 
 Then, in a little while afterward, he heard a 
 horse's feet behind him on the road, which had 
 been partially trodden down by many travellers 
 
 having already taken their way to D that 
 
 morning, and looking round, he saw Donald Fra- 
 ser, a neighbour and intimate acquaintance of his, 
 trotting after him on his little shaggy, sure-footed 
 Highland pony. John hailed him with much 
 pleasure, for he felt glad at the thought of having
 
 168 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 a companion to help to beguile the tediousncss of 
 the journey and to divert his mind from the sub- 
 ject that engrossed it ; and he could not have met 
 with one more suitable for the purpose, for Donald 
 was an old soldier, had served in the American 
 war and was full of anecdote regarding his cam- 
 paigns, various adventures and "hair-breadth 
 escapes" by "flood and field." He had, some 
 years before, retired on a small pension, and had 
 come to reside with a married daughter, who lived 
 about a mile distant from John. He was withal a 
 kind-hearted fellow, and being now bound like 
 John for the fair at D , he insisted on the lat- 
 ter taking his turn of the pony for a mile or so at 
 a time, while he relieved him of the charge of the 
 cow. This arrangement lightened the fatigue of 
 the journey to John, while the kindness of his old 
 neighbour who took this delicate way of showing 
 his sympathy with him under his present circum- 
 stances, while he refrained from expressing it in a 
 manner more open cheered and refreshed his 
 heart. And thus they journeyed on together, and 
 
 reached D about nightfall, when Donald 
 
 insisted on his friend's accompanying him to the 
 house of a relative with whom he was to lodge, 
 under promise of securing accommodation for him
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 169 
 
 there also after lie should have obtained quarters 
 for the night for his cow. This considerate atten- 
 tion, together with the hospitable welcome he 
 received from Donald's cousin, was very cheering 
 to John ; and he began to think that the Almighty 
 was already answering the parting prayer of his 
 wife in thus disposing these good people to show 
 him so much kindness; and he looked forward 
 with more hope than he had yet done to his success 
 in accomplishing the object of his journey. It was 
 late in the afternoon of the following day, however, 
 before he succeeded in finding a suitable purchaser 
 for the cow, but at last he was so fortunate as to 
 dispose of it at a fair price. After giving it up to 
 its new owner, and depositing the money he receiv- 
 ed for it in his pocketbook, he was about to leave 
 the ground, when his friend Donald, who had 
 accompanied him to the fair, was accosted by a 
 farmer from Inverness-shire, his own native 
 county, and having much to say to each other, they 
 stood conversing together for some time, while 
 John, having nothing to do now that his business 
 was settled, waited near the old friends till they 
 should part. At length the farmer proposed that 
 Donald should dine with him at the inn where he 
 was to pass the night, and Donald, who had all the
 
 170 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 warm interest of a Highlander in his native glen^ 
 which lie had not seen since he left it long years 
 before to fight his country's battles in a distant 
 land, at once agreed to the proposal, in order that 
 he might hear all his friend had to tell of the few 
 companions of his youth who might still survive 
 and sojourn there. John, who had been intro- 
 duced as the old soldier's friend and fellow-trav- 
 eller, was courteously invited to join the party, and, 
 not knowing how to dispose of himself for the 
 remainder of the evening, he gladly accepted the 
 invitation. 
 
 As both Donald and the farmer were men of 
 sober habits and conversable dispositions, John 
 spent a pleasant evening in their company, and at 
 ten o'clock they proposed, as they were to start 
 homeward early on the following morning, that 
 they should separate. Accordingly, the friends 
 rose to resume their great coats, which they had 
 laid aside at their entrance. After Donald had 
 taken a cordial farewell of the farmer, on turning 
 round to join John Martin he was struck with the 
 expression of dismay on his countenance while he 
 searched with nervous agitation in the pockets of 
 his great coat for something that he evidently 
 could not find. On his inquiring if he had lost

 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 171 
 
 anything, he was much shocked at being told that 
 the pocketbook containing the bank-notes he had 
 received for the cow was gone ! Loud and sincere 
 were the expressions of regret and sympathy that 
 followed this discovery ; and the kind-hearted old 
 soldier, feeling that his own thoughtlessness in de- 
 taining his friend standing so long among the 
 crowd at the fair might have partly led to this 
 catastrophe, mingled words of self-reproach with 
 suggestions and advice as to how he should act, in 
 order, if possible, to recover the money. But poor 
 John stood the image of despair, hardly hearing a 
 word his friend uttered, and for some minutes so 
 overwhelming were his feelings that he could not 
 speak. 
 
 His friend could hardly realize these feelings; 
 for though he must have known that to a poor man 
 the loss of such a sum was a very serious matter, 
 he was ignorant that it was all he had to depend 
 on for the payment of the arrears of his rent. At 
 length John was roused to the necessity of making 
 some exertion, and he mechanically followed his 
 friend as he heard him propose that he should lose 
 no time in reporting his loss to the police, though 
 at the same time he could not help expressing his 
 fears that such an application would be hopeless.
 
 172 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 When Donald reflected that the robbery must have 
 taken place at the fair, and that in all probability 
 the thieves were by this time far on their way to 
 the Scottish or English metropolis to share their 
 booty with the gang to which they belonged, he 
 felt that he could hold out very little encourage- 
 ment to his desponding friend; but saying that 
 while there was even the slightest chance it was a 
 pity to neglect it, he persisted in urging him on- 
 ward to the police office. 
 
 On reaching it and stating his case, John was 
 told that nothing could be done that night ; but 
 after taking down a description of the pocket-book 
 and ascertaining the sum it contained, the superin- 
 tendent promised to set the detectives on the alert 
 as early as possible the following morning. He 
 then asked John if he could give him the numbers 
 of the missing notes, and state to what banking 
 company they belonged, adding that such infor- 
 mation was nearly, if not altogether, indispensable 
 to the chance of success in endeavouring to detect 
 the thief. Poor John was sadly perplexed at this 
 question, for he was so ignorant of business it had 
 never once occurred to him to ascertain such par- 
 ticulars ; so that on receiving the notes he had con- 
 tented himself with simply counting them over
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 173 
 
 before putting them in his pocketbook. But Don- 
 ald Fraser, who was a shrewd fellow, and better 
 acquainted with the world, suggested that the per- 
 son who paid them might perhaps know ; and as 
 fortunately he lived within a short distance of the 
 town, John proposed to set out immediately in 
 search of the necessary information. On his friend 
 reminding him that as nothing could be done that 
 night, it would be a pity to disturb the man at so 
 late an hour, he agreed to defer his visit till early 
 on the following morning ; and promising to call 
 at the police office on his return and let the super- 
 intendent know the result of his inquiries, with a 
 heavy heart he accompanied Donald to the house 
 of his cousin, where the friends were again to pass 
 the night. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 As the reader will easily believe, the recollection 
 of poor John's loss pressed too heavily on his mind 
 to admit of his enjoying much sleep ; so he got up 
 between three and four o'clock on the following 
 morning, feeling that it would be of consequence 
 to be at the police office when it should be open at 
 six. He was sure that the urgency of the case 
 would sufficiently excuse his disturbing the person
 
 174 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 on whom he had to call at so early an hour. Be- 
 sides, he was thankful to make the necessary exer- 
 tion, in hope of being able in some measure to 
 divert his mind from his misfortune, for to remain 
 inactive in his present circumstances was intoler- 
 able. But as he traversed the dark and silent 
 streets, in spite of his endeavours to avoid doing so, 
 he could not help dwelling on his loss ; for lie could 
 scarcely allow himself to hope that there might be 
 a chance of recovering the money, and he pictured 
 to himself what his situation and that of his wife 
 and children might be in the event of his land- 
 lord's proving as unrelenting as he feared he would 
 be if he failed to pay his rent. The thought of 
 their being ejected from their cottage and turned 
 out, houseless and destitute, on the lone hillside, 
 presented itself to his mind ; and he sighed mourn- 
 fully as he felt how extremely forlorn their situ- 
 ation would be in such a case, for he had no near 
 relative or friend to whom he could apply for as- 
 sistance ; and, as we have seen, poor John had not 
 the strong faith nor hopeful trust in God with 
 which his wife was blessed. 
 
 While these gloomy thoughts were passing 
 through his mind, his way led him across the prin- 
 cipal street of , opposite to a large, handsome
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 1V5 
 
 building, before which three lamps were dimly 
 burning; and within a few paces of the pavement, 
 where the snow had been cleared away, he was 
 struck with observing some bright object on the 
 ground glittering and glancing in the uncertain 
 light. He stooped down to examine it, and found 
 that it was a large brooch composed of some kind 
 of shining stones of great size and brilliancy. As 
 the reader may suppose, John had no personal 
 knowledge of precious stones, but he had heard 
 his mother who in early life had been a servant 
 in the family of the great feudal proprietor whose 
 tenant he was expatiate on the beauty and value 
 of the duchess' diamonds, and it struck him that 
 the trinket he had found might be something of 
 the same kind. He turned it round and round in 
 his hand and saw that the back of it was of gold, 
 but he in vain sought for any trace of a name 
 which might lead to a discovery of its owner. 
 Presently, a strong temptation assailed him what 
 if he were to set off immediately for Edinburgh 
 and offer it for sale? Though he had not the 
 slightest idea of its real value, yet he was certain 
 it would bring a much larger sum than that which 
 he had lost, and what an infinite relief it would be 
 to his mind if he could by any means procure
 
 176 ETCHES WITHOUT wixas. 
 
 that ! But the next moment he repelled the temp- 
 tation ; for the thought of what Marion would say 
 if he told her and he must do so to account for 
 his absence was immediately followed by one still 
 more solemn, and he asked himself the question : 
 "How can I do this great wickedness, and sin 
 against God ?" For to sell what did not belong 
 to himself he at once saw would be an act of dis- 
 honesty ; and come what might, he never could 
 bring himself to stoop to that. So he resolved 
 rather, on his return from his errand, to take it to 
 the police office, tell how and where he had found 
 it, and beg the superintendent to take the necessary 
 steps to discover its owner. Happy, blessed re- 
 solve ! At any time, when assailed by temptation, 
 let yours, reader, ever be a similar one ! So, with 
 a heart lightened of half its load in consequence 
 of his successful resistance of this temptation, John 
 proceeded on his way, holding the brooch firmly in 
 his hand. 
 
 But, alas ! on reaching the house of the man to 
 whom he had sold the cow, he met with a sad dis- 
 appointment ; for he found that for any informa- 
 tion he could give him regarding the notes, his 
 chance of recovering them was as remote as ever, 
 for he had himself just received them for some
 
 THE DIAMOND SMOOCH. 177 
 
 stock he had been selling a few minutes before he 
 paid them to John, and he had never examined 
 them, nor did he know the persons who had given 
 them to him. So, with his spirits again sunk to 
 the lowest pitch, John retraced his steps to the po- 
 lice office. It was about a quarter-past six o'clock 
 when he reached it, and just as he entered a ser- 
 vant in livery came out and mounted a horse which 
 stood at the door, and as he was riding off, John 
 heard the superintendent desire him to tell his lady 
 that her orders would be attended to immediately. 
 Then turning to John, whom he did not at first 
 recognize, he asked, "Well, my man, what may 
 your business be ?" 
 
 John reminded him of his having called at the 
 office on the previous night about the money that 
 had been stolen from him ; and then, in despairing 
 accents, he related the result of his application that 
 morning. 
 
 " That is a sad pity," was the reply, " for, as I 
 said last night, I fear your only chance of recover- 
 ing the money would depend upon your being able 
 to obtain the information I wanted. But cheer up, 
 my man," he added kindly, as he observed poor 
 John's despairing look ; " it is just possible that the 
 thief may yet be traced ; let me have your name 
 
 12
 
 178 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 and address, and I will see what can be done for 
 you." And as he seated himself at a writing-desk 
 for the purpose of taking them down, John thank- 
 ed him gratefully ; but on seeing him still linger 
 after they were written, the superintendent asked 
 if there was anything else he could do for him. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied John ; " here is something I 
 found in the street this morning, and I've brought 
 it to you, as I think you may be able to find out 
 the owner ;" and as he laid the diamond brooch on 
 the desk he proceeded to relate how and where he 
 had got it. 
 
 The superintendent uttered an exclamation, which 
 made all the policemen who happened to be in the 
 office at once flock round John, to see what could 
 have occasioned it. 
 
 " Well, I declare," continued the superintendent, 
 " a little w r hile ago I was thinking what an unfor- 
 tunate fellow you were; and now I must congrat- 
 ulate you on your extreme good luck." 
 
 " Yes, if so be that this is really the brooch \ve 
 are in search of," said one of the policemen. 
 
 " There's little chance of two such being lost in 
 one night," replied the superintendent, laughing; 
 "indeed, I question if there is one like this in all 
 Scotland," he added, taking up the brooch and ex-
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 179 
 
 amining it. "Besides, this answers the descrip- 
 tion exactly, and was found in the very place. 
 Look here," he continued, turning to John, and Ke 
 pointed as he spoke to a placard which one of his 
 men had just been fastening to the door; "just 
 before you came in, we received this notice, and I 
 was about to send off a copy of it to be printed 
 and posted up in the streets ; I little expected to 
 be so soon saved from requiring to do so." 
 
 John obeyed, and proceeded to read the 
 announcement of the loss of a very valuable 
 diamond brooch, which had been dropped that 
 morning, between two and three o'clock, by a lady 
 on her way from the assembly-rooms, where a ball 
 had been held the night before. It then went on 
 to describe the brooch, and to state that " any one 
 finding it and bringing it to the address given, 
 would receive the reward of fifty pounds." 
 
 When John had read the above, he stood like 
 one bewildered and hardly believing the evidence 
 of his eyesight; for in his simplicity, when he 
 determined honestly to bring the brooch to the 
 police office, the idea of reward never once crossed 
 his mind ; so that the revulsion occasioned in it by 
 this sudden transition from utter hopelessness to 
 extreme happiness was so strong that he could
 
 180 RICHES WITHOUT WIXQS. 
 
 scarcely command his feelings so as to avoid burst- 
 ing into tears. 
 
 " What ails you, my man ?" exclaimed the super- 
 intendent, observing his emotion ; " you seem to 
 take your good fortune in rather an unusual 
 manner !" 
 
 " Oh, sir, if you did but know all, you would 
 not wonder at my feeling overwhelmed," replied 
 John. "The loss I met with yesterday left me 
 penniless ; and now to think of my good fortune 
 in chancing upon such a sum of money, and all 
 for nothing, too !" 
 
 " I can assure you the lady who lost the brooch 
 won't think it nothing. Why, man, do you know 
 it is of immense value? and might bring I can't 
 tell how much money ; and being such a rich prize 
 for any one who might find it, I do believe she 
 considered it ten chances to one that she would never 
 see it again. Her servant, whom you met leaving 
 the office as you came in, had been to the assembly- 
 rooms to search inside and about the doors before 
 coming here, as he said his lady was in a sad way 
 about it when she missed it ; for, besides its great 
 value, it was the gift of an esteemed friend. It 
 was fortunate indeed for you that you chanced to 
 be there before him. And now you'd better lose
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 181 
 
 no time in taking it to her. Here, Tom," address- 
 ing one of his men, " take this honest fellow along 
 with you to Beechwood, and be sure to tell Mrs. 
 Montgomery that he never once calculated on re- 
 ceiving any reward when he brought the brooch to 
 me. Go along, my man, and I promise you that 
 you won't have to complain of your reception." 
 And John departed with his escort accordingly. 
 
 While he is on his way we may inform our 
 readers that the brooch he had found had been 
 given to Mrs. Montgomery by a Russian princess, 
 to whom she had been introduced in early life when 
 she resided with her father in St. Petersburg, where 
 he held an official situation at the court of the em- 
 peror. Mrs. Montgomery had first attracted the 
 notice of the princess by her extreme beauty, and 
 then, on discovering the amiability of her disposi- 
 tion, she became exceedingly attached to her. This 
 attachment had been strengthened by the circum- 
 stance of the young lady having gone to assist in 
 nursing a beloved and only child of the princess in 
 a dangerous and protracted illness ; and in token 
 of her gratitude she had presented her with the 
 costly brooch when she left Russia on her marriage 
 with Mr. Montgomery, who was a rich merchant 
 of D , but connected in business with that
 
 182 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 country. Hence the high value she set on the 
 brooch, her distress at losing it, and the large re- 
 ward offered in hopes of recovering it. 
 
 And now, instead of accompanying John to the 
 beautiful villa of this lady in the neighbourhood 
 
 of D , we shall return to Marion, whom we 
 
 left three days ago " troubled, yet not distressed, 
 perplexed, but not in despair, persecuted, but not 
 forsaken, cast down, but not destroyed/' in her 
 lonely cottage in the Highland glen. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE days that had passed since her husband left 
 home had been days of mingled anxiety and sad- 
 ness to Marion Martin anxiety on his account, 
 for she was grieved at his state of despondency re- 
 garding their circumstances, want of trust in God 
 and submission to his will sadness at witnessing 
 the sorrow of her children, and being obliged to 
 listen to their fretful repinings when they found 
 that their cow had been taken away to be sold. It 
 was their first sorrow, and its violence was great 
 in proportion to the novelty of such a feeling in 
 their young hearts. They could not be brought to 
 understand the necessity for such a thing; nor
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 183 
 
 could they attend to, far less profit by, the lessons 
 which their pious mother tried to enforce on them 
 about the duty of submission to all that God 
 appoints. It would take long years of experience 
 of even sterner discipline before they could be ex- 
 pected to learn that. During the day, it is true, 
 while engaged in their childish sports, they in some 
 measure forgot their sorrow ; but it returned again 
 when the evening came round and there was no 
 Crummie to milk, attend to and put to bed on 
 ordinary occasions the great event of their day 
 and it was only when they lay down to rest that 
 they again lost the recollection of their grief in 
 sleep. The next day passed over much in the same 
 manner, but on the following their minds were 
 somewhat diverted from the one all-engrossing 
 subject by the expectation of their father's return ; 
 so that great was their disappointment when sun- 
 set was succeeded by .the short wintry twilight, 
 twilight by darkness, and still he did not appear. 
 
 Their mother oould not, in some measure, help 
 sharing their uneasiness on account of her hus- 
 band's non-arrival at the time he had specified, it 
 was so unlike John not to keep his word ; and then 
 she could not think of anything that could have 
 detained him, for the idea of his not being able to
 
 184 RICHES WITHOUT WISGS. 
 
 find a purchaser for the cow never once entered 
 into her calculations. Then she thought that per- 
 haps he might have been induced to wait by the 
 prospect of joining some other people returning 
 home from the fair, and she told the children, in 
 answer to their anxious questions, that such was 
 her conjecture. But long after their bed-time had 
 arrived, and she had with some difficulty succeeded 
 in persuading them to retire for the night, there 
 was still no appearance of her husband, and Marion 
 began to feel somewhat alarmed. True, she could 
 hardly have assigned a reason for her apprehen- 
 sions, for in that quiet country there was little fear 
 at any rate of his being -attacked and robbed on the 
 road ; and then, having money to carry upon him, 
 she had sufficient confidence in his prudence to 
 feel satisfied that he never would have thrown him- 
 self so late unless he had secured company. But 
 still, this consideration did not set her mind entirely 
 at rest, and in spite of her efforts to overcome such 
 a feeling an indefinable dread took possession of it. 
 At length she rose, went to the door and looked 
 abroad on the night, in hopes of seeing or hearing 
 some indication of her husband's approach. As 
 far as her eye could reach in the uncertain light, 
 over the wide expanse of snow-covered country, no
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 185 
 
 object was visible, and no sound met her ear save 
 the faint sighing of the night-breeze among the 
 dark old firs in the glen, and the murmur of the 
 waterfall, which had been too much swollen by 
 recent rains to be frozen. Above the lofty moun- 
 tain which overshadowed her cottage the pale 
 crescent moon had arisen, and thousands of bright 
 and glittering stars shone in the clear, frosty sky. 
 Marion felt her mind cheered and elevated as she 
 gazed on these wonderful works of God's hand 
 those "spangled heavens" which "their Great 
 Original proclaim." It was long since the " Day- 
 star" had " arisen in her own heart," and would 
 she now lose her faith in that God who had 
 hitherto been her Guide and Support who " had 
 done" for her " exceeding abundantly above all she 
 could ask or think ?" No ; she would still " hold 
 fast her confidence unto the end ;" and to encourage 
 and strengthen her in this resolve a voice, as if 
 stealing down from the heights of heaven, seemed 
 to whisper in her ear 
 
 "Trust in the Lord, for ever trust, 
 
 And banish all your fears 
 Strength in the Lord Jehovah dwells, 
 Eternal as his years." 
 
 Marion re-entered her cottage, and after engaging
 
 186 RICHES WITHOUT WIXGS. 
 
 in her nightly exercise of reading the Word and 
 prayer, she retired to rest, and soon enjoyed that 
 "sleep" which "He giveth his beloved." 
 
 The next day, soon after sunset, and before Mar- 
 ion had time to get anxious regarding her hus- 
 band's return, the children, who had been playing 
 about the door watching for his expected arrival, 
 entered the house in great excitement to tell her 
 that they saw father coming along the road, and 
 Crummie with him ! 
 
 Marion's heart sank within her at the announce- 
 ment. Was it possible, then, that he had not suc- 
 ceeded in selling the cow? and what was now to be 
 done for the arrears of their rent? Then she 
 thought it just possible that in the fading light 
 the children might have mistaken some one else for 
 their father, and she hastened out to see for herself. 
 But there was no mistake. There, in the distance, 
 their forms clearly defined against the ruddy glow 
 of the western sky, a man and a cow were 
 approaching, and she saw at once that their infor- 
 mation had been correct. On hastening forward 
 along with them, however, to meet her husband, 
 one glance at his countenance showed her that all 
 was right, and his first words set her mind entirely 
 at rest.
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 187 
 
 " Give me joy, dear Marion," he said ; " I've 
 news for you ! I've met with such a piece of good 
 fortune !" and while the children, in their happi- 
 ness at seeing the cow back again, danced round 
 her, patting her neck and sides, he bade them take 
 Crummie to the cow-house and give her a good 
 supper and a comfortable bed, for she was " their 
 own cow once more." 
 
 Marion looked inquiringly at her husband, for 
 she was quite at a loss to understand the meaning 
 of all this. He did not keep her long in suspense ; 
 but as they entered the cottage and seated them- 
 selves by the fireside, he proceeded to relate to her 
 all the particulars of his story, with most of which 
 the reader is already acquainted. Then he told 
 what a kind reception he had got from Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery, who was so delighted at seeing her brooch 
 again that she seemed hardly to know how best to 
 show her gratitude to the finder. After warmly 
 commending his honesty and hearing his story, 
 she added the price of the cow to the fifty pounds 
 of reward, and desired him to go and buy it back 
 again, and then to return and remain at her house 
 all night, as it would be too late for him to proceed 
 on his journey home that day after his business 
 should be over. After leaving a large balance of
 
 188 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 the fifty pounds to his credit in the bank, he had 
 brought with him a bill for the amount due for the 
 arrears of his rent, and he concluded by telling 
 Marion that Mrs. Montgomery had promised to 
 send up a supply of warm clothing for herself and 
 the children on the following week; adding, "She 
 is the kindest and best lady I ever saw, and it was 
 a lucky chance indeed that brought us acquainted 
 with her." 
 
 "Say, rather, it was the kind providence of God, 
 who has mercifully thought upon us in our time of 
 need, and sent us help from above. To him we 
 owe all our blessings," replied Marion, who had 
 listened with thankfulness to her husband's narra- 
 tive of what she justly considered this wonderful 
 interposition of Divine Providence in their behalf. 
 
 " You are right, Marion," replied John ; " but 
 it is for your sake alone that he has shown us such 
 kindness ; for what am I but a poor, ungrateful 
 creature, always repining at his will and never 
 trusting him as I should do ?" 
 
 "You will be so no longer, I am sure, dear 
 John," said Marion, gently. "And remember 
 that I am equally unworthy with yourself ; it is to 
 his mercy in Christ Jesus alone that we are 
 indebted for all we receive at his hand. And
 
 THE DIAMOND BROOCH. 189 
 
 now/' she added, " I wish I had something better 
 than our usual fare to refresh you with after your 
 long journey this cold day, though the good news 
 you've brought should be enough to cheer us for 
 many a day to come without anything else." 
 
 " Oh, I had forgot," replied John ; " here is some- 
 thing else the kind lady gave me ; and she would 
 have insisted on my taking much more if I only 
 could have carried it." And he laid upon the 
 table two parcels containing tea and sugar. 
 
 Seldom was a more cheerful meal than that to 
 which the family sat down after Marion had pre- 
 pared tea, milked the cow and summoned the de- 
 lighted children in from their attendance on their 
 recovered favourite. Surely, never did the costliest 
 gems give such happiness to their possessors as did 
 this diamond brooch produce in the family of its 
 finder. And to the soul of John Martin it was the 
 means of bringing a treasure far more precious than 
 all the riches of Golconda's mines, for it taught him 
 a lifelong lesson of trust in God. 
 
 At a later hour that night the incense of thanks- 
 giving, praise and prayer arose from humble and 
 devout hearts and lips within that home ; and the 
 "Angel of the Lord," who encamps around the 
 dwellings of the righteous, doubtless heard the
 
 190 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 holy sounds, and presented them at the throne of 
 the Eternal, to whom such offerings are far more 
 precious than sacrifices of " thousands of rams or 
 ten thousands of rivers of oil." (Micali vi. 7.) 
 
 From that time forth everything prospered with 
 John Martin. The frost soon broke up, and he 
 obtained regular work in the fields. For many a 
 succeeding year his crops were abundant, and he 
 was soon enabled to rent a few additional acres. 
 So that, though he never recovered the money he 
 had lost at the fair, all went so well with him that 
 he never felt the want of it. Then his family grew 
 up industrious, steady and pious ; and to her chil- 
 dren's children Marion used often to delight in re- 
 lating, with devout gratitude, the wonderful story 
 of God's providence in the finding of the diamond 
 brooch. 
 
 One word before we conclude. We do not wish 
 to convey to the reader of this narrative the im- 
 pression that we mean to infer that all who put 
 their trust in God will receive the reward of their 
 faith in this world, as Marion Martin did. Reason 
 and experience are alike contrary to such a belief. 
 For we know that often the experience of God's 
 most faithful servants, throughout the greater por-
 
 THE DIAMOND SROOCff. 191 
 
 tion of their earthly pilgrimage, is one of successive 
 trials and sorrows. But it is a blessed thought 
 that for all those who truly put their trust in him 
 there is a bright and glorious world in reversion, 
 where their "light affliction," which will then 
 appear as "but for a moment," worketh out "a far 
 more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." (2 
 Cor. iv. 17.) For what was the answer of the 
 elder to the beloved apostle when he beheld in 
 mystic vision that " great multitude which no man 
 could number," standing "before the throne and 
 before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and 
 palms in their hands," and appealed to his know- 
 ledge for information regarding them ? " These are 
 they which came out of great tribulation, and have 
 washed their robes and made them white in the 
 blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the 
 throne of God, and serve him day and night in his 
 temple; and He that sitteth on the throne shall 
 dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, 
 neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light 
 on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in 
 the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall 
 lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and 
 God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." 
 (Rev. vii. 14-17.)
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD 
 
 SINGULAR train of circumstances occur- 
 red to me many years ago which may serve 
 to illustrate the dealings of Providence. 
 Owing to a series of heavy pastoral labours 
 I deemed it advisable to recruit my exhausted 
 strength by a change of air and scene, and was in- 
 duced to pay a visit to one whom to hear was to 
 admire, and whom to know was to esteem my 
 
 valued friend, the Rev. W. M , of B . 
 
 The good man welcomed me with his usual hospi- 
 tality, and in the evening some hours were passed 
 in various important discussions. In the course of 
 the conversation I mentioned a remarkable instance 
 of what appeared to be an interposition of Provi- 
 dence, to which my friend agreed, adding this ob- 
 servation: "The man who watches the leadings 
 of Providence will never want a providence to 
 watch." 
 
 192
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. ''. . 193 
 
 Some months afterward I was again a visitor at 
 the house of my friend, and said to him y "I>o you 
 remember the observation you made when- I- last 
 saw you ' The man who watches the leadings of 
 Providence will never want a providence to 
 watch?'" 
 
 " Certainly I do ; I remember it well." 
 " Then, if you please, I will regard that sentence 
 as your text this evening, and I will offer the com- 
 mentary. You uttered what I regarded as an im- 
 portant truth, and the circumstances that arose out 
 of the events that evening will confirm you in your 
 opinion. While we were conversing together that 
 evening, if you remember, the servant came into 
 the room to inquire for how many visitors chambers 
 were to be prepared. You replied, ' Four,' men- 
 tioning Archdeacon H , Mr..V , and two 
 
 other gentlemen, whose names I now forget. I 
 immediately exclaimed, ' My dear friend, these four 
 visitors must be coming to you by a previous ap- 
 pointment.' The answer was, ' Yes, and they can- 
 not arrive until a late hour.' ' Then,' was my reply, 
 ' your house will have enough to do to provide W 
 all these guests ; and in compassion to you, as I 
 am a self-invited visitor, I will change my plan 
 and not stay here this evening.' 
 
 13
 
 194 MICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " ' Nonsense, my dear sir ! I am delighted to see 
 you,' was the reply. 
 
 "'To stay would be unreasonable; therefore, 
 let an obstinate man have his own way.' 
 
 " ' Well, if you go it is your own act and deed. 
 
 Will you visit Mr. , the churchwarden, who is 
 
 often inquiring after you ?' 
 
 " * No, I will remain with you until nine o'clock, 
 and then take my leave.' 
 
 " At nine o'clock I took my departure to the 
 hotel to which I was recommended, and was shown 
 into a private room. Finding it was too early to 
 retire to rest, I requested of the waiter the morn- 
 ing or the evening paper. 
 
 " ' I am sorry, sir,' said the man, ' but the papers 
 are gone ; it is after the hour at which we despatch 
 them.' 
 
 " ' Never mind ; do not take any trouble about 
 it.' 
 
 " The waiter withdrew, and in about a quarter 
 of an hour entered the room with a paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 " ' In one of the supper-rooms, sir, I have found 
 a paper ; it is about ten days old, but I thought 
 you might possibly like to see it, sir, so I have 
 Drought it down.'
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 195 
 
 " ' Thank you ; it will do very well, I have no 
 doubt, for the short time I have to spare.' 
 
 "I began to read, and the first paragraph at- 
 tracted my attention by its singular heading 
 namely, ' Robbing the Dead.' Its singularity led 
 me to read it. It was to this effect : That an ex- 
 amination had been carried on before one of the 
 police magistrates in London in consequence of a 
 robbery committed at sea. A gentleman from 
 Honduras, in a delicate state of health, had taken 
 his passage to England, and during the voyage he 
 became exceedingly ill and died. Shortly after his 
 death the cabin-boy observed the mate enter the 
 gentleman's berth, and, induced no doubt by cu- 
 riosity, the boy watched the mate and saw him take 
 a bag which he supposed to contain money. This 
 bag the mate secreted in the hold of the vessel. 
 The cabin-boy immediately informed the captain ; 
 a search was made and a bag of dollars was found 
 near the spot described. The mate was put into 
 irons, and when the vessel arrived in the river was 
 handed over to the police. The evidence before 
 the magistrate being conclusive, the offender was 
 committed for trial. The deceased gentleman was 
 a stranger to the captain and the crew, and was 
 known to them only by name. This name, men-
 
 196 RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 tioncd by some of the witnesses, was one that was 
 very unusual, and it occurred to me as I read it 
 that I had heard it before, and that a family bear- 
 ing it, or something very like it, lived in my neigh- 
 bourhood I therefore copied the paragraph into my 
 pocket-book. 
 
 " Early the next morning I proceeded on my 
 journey, and arrived at my own home about mid- 
 day ; but feeling very much impressed by the para- 
 graph, I lost no time in proceeding to that part of 
 the parish where the family I had in view resided. 
 It consisted of an elderly lady, the widow of an 
 officer, and her daughters. I paid them a pastoral 
 visit, and in the course of conversation I remarked, 
 * I think I have not the pleasure of seeing all your 
 family ?> 
 
 " ' Oh no,' was the reply ; ' but I hope you will 
 see them all, and that very soon, for I am expect- 
 ing my noble and darling son home.' 
 
 " 'Indeed; then he is abroad, I presume?' 
 
 " ' Yes ; and we have had charming letters from 
 him ; he has been employed by the British gov- 
 ernment, and he tells me that the authorities have 
 made honourable mention of his name, and that 
 as a mark of their 'approbation they have pre- 
 sented him with five hundred pounds for a very
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 197 
 
 difficult survey which he has recently accomplished. 
 In his last letter, which was from Honduras, he tells 
 me that he is about to return to England, that he 
 may again see his mother and his sisters, and I can- 
 not express how anxiously we are longing for his 
 arrival.' 
 
 " I made no remark, but immediately withdrew 
 and despatched a letter to a relation of the family 
 living a few miles distant. In this letter I gave 
 an outline of the circumstance, and requested his 
 attendance. He arrived after some delay, and in 
 great tribulation ; at the same time telling me he 
 had searched for the paper I had named, but that, 
 although it was not a fortnight old, he could not 
 procure it, and there was no mention of the affair 
 in other newspapers. At length, by the aid of a 
 friend, he had found a copy of the journal, and 
 saw at once that my fears were too well founded. 
 He entreated me to proceed with him to the lady's 
 house, and to make known in the most prudent 
 manner I could the sad intelligence that would 
 bring the bitterest sorrow into their household. I 
 accompanied him as he desired and made the com- 
 munication, guarding it in every way that truth 
 would permit; but the instant the object of our 
 visit was conjectured, the aged mother fell to the
 
 198 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 floor, and the sisters of tlie deceased officer were 
 scarcely less agitated. 
 
 " When the sufferers had in some degree recov- 
 ered from the shock which this blow to their fond- 
 est hopes had naturally caused, the question arose, 
 What is the best thing to be done ? I urged that 
 their relative should proceed immediately to Lon- 
 don, apply at the police office, make himself known 
 to the magistrates, learn all the particulars, and take 
 the proper steps to secure for the widow and her 
 daughters whatever property there might be in the 
 vessel belonging to the deceased. The advice com- 
 mended itself to the approval of all, and the gen- 
 tleman took his place to town by that night's mail, 
 and the next day had an interview with the magis- 
 trate, who was disposed to render his aid, but re- 
 quired some additional evidence of identity. In 
 this perplexity the relative produced my letter, 
 which, as it professed to come from the incumbent 
 of the parish and bore the proper post-mark, the 
 magistrate accepted as satisfactory, and ordered an 
 officer to accompany the gentleman to the dock, 
 where the vessel was expected to be taking in her 
 cargo. 
 
 " The vessel was found preparing to sail. On 
 the authority being exhibited, the captain stated
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 199 
 
 that he had taken possession of sixteen packages 
 which the deceased had brought on board the ves- 
 sel, and that, as he knew not the officer's connec- 
 tions, he had fixed his seal upon all of them, that 
 they might remain without loss until a claimant 
 was found. These cases were immediately placed 
 under the charge of the police officer, and in due 
 time opened before proper authorities. Among the 
 papers of the deceased was a memorandum as to 
 some funds belonging to him in the hands of 
 
 Messrs. C and Co., army agents. When the 
 
 due forms of law had been complied with by the 
 widow as the nearest of kin, the funds in the hands 
 of the agents and the valuable contents of the six- 
 teen packing-cases became the property of the be- 
 reaved family, and I have reason to believe that it 
 was found large enough to make a very desirable 
 addition to the income of his weeping mother and 
 his sorrowing sisters. 
 
 " Now," I concluded, " all this appears to have 
 been gained for them by the circumstance of my 
 hearing your servant's inquiry, and then, in spite 
 of your entreaty, resolving not to remain that 
 night as your visitor. Thus he that watches the 
 hand of Providence will never want a providence 
 to watch."
 
 200 RICHES WITHOUT JF/A'GVS. 
 
 After the accession to the widow's income arising 
 from the discovery of her son's property which I 
 had been providentially the means of securing, I 
 became a more frequent visitor, and was at times 
 consulted upon family affairs. The eldest daugh- 
 ter, a young lady of pleasing manners and personal 
 attractions, gave me to understand that she thought 
 of accepting an offer of marriage which had re- 
 cently been made to her by a gentleman who vis- 
 ited at the house with her mother's sanction, and 
 she added that all points were satisfactory save one, 
 and that one was a source of uneasiness. Her 
 suitor was a confirmed Unitarian, and she men- 
 tioned the subject to me as her pastor, asking for 
 my advice ; but at the same time hoping that, as 
 her mother highly approved of the proposed al- 
 liance, I would not deem his religious sentiments 
 a fatal obstacle. The mother and the young lady 
 were evidently anxious to obtain from me a favour- 
 able opinion. My reply Avas: "If you are in 
 earnest in religion, how can you expect the divine 
 favour to rest upon such an alliance ? No worldly 
 advantages can, in my judgment, compensate for 
 the dangers of such a step. Any person believing 
 in the divinity of Christ and the atonement offered 
 by him, falls into error by forming an alliance with
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 201 
 
 a gentleman, however amiable, who spurns the doc- 
 trine of the Trinity and the divinity of Christ; 
 therefore, if my opinion be of the slightest weight 
 in your estimation, I am bound in sincerity, but in 
 all courtesy, to express it, by declaring that I atn 
 and must continue to be opposed upon principle to 
 the marriage." 
 
 After this expression of my sentiments in obe- 
 dience to their request, I still continued my visits 
 as a pastor, but soon perceived that, however po- 
 litely these might be received, they were less ac- 
 ceptable than in former times. Yet, as a clergy- 
 man's duties must be discharged in the shade as 
 well as in the sunshine under painful as much as 
 under pleasing circumstances I continued the vis- 
 its as before, and made known to the young lady 
 the arguments which are employed by our learned 
 divines to confute the errors of Socinianism and to 
 prove the divinity of Christ. These arguments, 
 confirmed by reference to the Scriptures, were not 
 without a good effect. 
 
 Not long afterward sickness entered the family, 
 and the young lady was confined to her chamber 
 and her couch. I attended daily for a consider- 
 able time; at length, observing from her remarks 
 that a favourable impression had been produced on
 
 202 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 her mind, ami that she no longer regarded the ar- 
 guments which assailed the plan of redemption 
 and the deity of the Redeemer as innocent, I said 
 to her : " My dear young friend, your views of the 
 Redeemer and his great work are far more scrip- 
 tural than they formerly were, but they are still 
 defective; I am sure that this illness has influenced 
 your mind, and is possibly one of the ways by 
 which Providence is guiding you to a correct 
 knowledge of that which relates to your eternal 
 welfare. You are in earnest, and I fully believe 
 in your sincerity; and under the conviction that 
 1 none shall seek God in vain,' I declare to you this 
 day, in the name of the living God, that peace of 
 mind and eternal life shall be yours, if you will 
 accept them on the conditions given in that very 
 book which now lies by your side ; and these are 
 the conditions : faith in Christ as God over all, and 
 the making a solemn surrender of yourself and of 
 all that relates to your welfare for time and eter- 
 nity, into the hands of Christ as your Redeemer." 
 On the following day she informed me of her 
 firm determination to relinquish the acquaintance 
 of her Socinian suitor. Time afterward proved 
 the wisdom of this decision for other reasons be- 
 sides that of his creed. After this declaration of
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 203 
 
 her Christian faith, the sufferer appeared to make 
 rapid progress in the knowledge of divine things. 
 Among her first acts of piety was a deep anxiety 
 prudently manifested for the spiritual welfare of 
 those around her. 
 
 Our duties were now changed ; and I, who was 
 wont to go to her couch as her pastor and teacher, 
 went to learn from one who appeared to live above 
 the world while living in it : a heavenly atmos- 
 phere seemed to be shed around her chamber, and 
 even a visitor felt constrained to say, " Surely this 
 is the portal of heaven." Though unable to move 
 from her couch, her faculties were not only unim- 
 paired, but they became more vigorous. Her time 
 was passed in prayer, in studying the Scriptures, and 
 in very pious and happily-expressed exhortations 
 to her mother, her sisters and her friends ; and by 
 the beautiful manner in which she exhibited piety 
 in her own person she proved a comfort to those 
 who came to comfort her. 
 
 Some time after I said to her and her friends : 
 "You must lend me to some other people for a 
 short time, for I have received an offer of prefer- 
 ment, and I am anxious before I decide to visit 
 that place." 
 
 She exclaimed, " You are not going to leave me ?"
 
 204 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " Only," I said, "for about ten clays." 
 The next evening being Saturday, I arrived at 
 my destination, and on the Sunday I undertook 
 the duties of the church, intending to do the same 
 on the following Sunday, and return at the end of 
 the ten days. The reception I met with from the 
 patrons and others was kindness itself, courteously 
 expressed ; there was everything to make the visit 
 agreeable to me ; yet on the following morning I 
 arose greatly depressed, and I announced to my 
 kind host that, although I was perfectly well in 
 health, I was so unhappy from some unknown rea- 
 son that I felt it my duty to return home imme- 
 diately. All their influence failed to change my 
 purpose. Without the loss of a moment I started 
 for home, and on my way the coach stopped for a 
 
 time at the large town of M . 
 
 A difficulty here presented itself. At a short 
 distance from the town there resided a benevolent 
 man who felt an interest in our schools, and hav- 
 ing some relatives residing in my parish, I thought 
 it possible that he would give me five pounds to- 
 ward the infant-school if I could only see him, as 
 he knew the efforts I was making and the need 
 there was of funds. I walked to and fro perplexed 
 as I thought of the wants of the school and also
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 205 
 
 of the state of my sick friend. At length, so 
 strongly did the subject occupy my mind, that I 
 said almost aloud, "I will not call on this good 
 man, but I will go home to attend to one of God's 
 children, and I will trust to God to provide for his 
 own schools." 
 
 In a few moments I had resumed my seat in the 
 coach, under a firm impression that I had decided 
 prudently, and that I was in the path of duty. I 
 reached my own house at midnight. I found the 
 family all up at that unusual hour, and the mo- 
 ment I entered, the cry was, "We are delighted 
 you have come home; the young lady has been 
 sending almost hourly this evening to know if you 
 had returned." 
 
 " Sending every hour !" I exclaimed ; " how is 
 that ? I stated to the family that I was to be ab- 
 sent for ten days. There could be no misunder- 
 standing, for they all knew it." 
 
 " True ; still, so it is ; they have been sending, 
 at the sick lady's request, almost every hour." 
 
 Hearing this, without any regard to the time, I 
 started for my friend's house, and reached it about 
 one o'clock in the morning. I found the family 
 up, and assembled round the couch of the sick lady. 
 The instant I entered, the invalid, gently raising
 
 206 RICHES WITHOUT WINOS. 
 
 her hands to heaven, said, "Thank God, thank 
 God! my prayer is answered. I felt sure you 
 would come. I am dying, but I have prayed to 
 my heavenly Father that he would not let me die 
 until you returned, that I might thank you before 
 I die." 
 
 She then requested them to raise her a little ; 
 and taking my hands within her own, and looking 
 at me most earnestly, she cried in a voice so solemn, 
 so earnest, yet so affectionate, that it thrilled 
 through my heart, " Oh, my spiritual father, my 
 brother, my friend, may the good and great God 
 bless you for what you have done for me ! I am 
 dying, yet I am full of joy and peace ; may every 
 mercy and every blessing descend upon you in this 
 world ! and, my best of friends, may you and I sit 
 down together at the marriage-supper of the 
 Lamb !" Thus saying, she reclined her head on 
 her couch and died. 
 
 With palpitating heart I returned home filled 
 with joy, though borne down with sorrow. How 
 great the privilege to receive the fervent blessing 
 of one whose gentle spirit was just entering the 
 regions of light ! 
 
 In the morning, at an early hour, I again visited 
 the family, and described to them the sense of deso-
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 207 
 
 lation which I had experienced during my late ab- 
 sence, explaining that, although among the most 
 attentive of friends, this feeling of sadness had 
 caused me to change all my plans, to give up my 
 visit and without loss of time return home. I 
 mentioned also my deliberation as I passed through 
 
 the town of M , and my resolution, although 
 
 it might be a loss of five pounds to the school, to 
 go home and try to comfort one of God's servants, 
 trusting the care of the school to God's providence. 
 I then produced a letter which the postman had 
 put into my hands as I came out of the house that 
 morning. The letter was from the merchant I 
 mentioned as likely to contribute five pounds to- 
 ward the school, if I could have called upon him 
 and explained our position from want of funds. 
 The letter was very short, and simply said that he 
 
 had heard of my being in M , and that as I 
 
 had passed through his town without coming to see 
 him, he would punish me for my neglect which 
 he did by enclosing me fifty pounds. Who shall 
 say that God will not provide for his own work? 
 I then alluded to the high tone of piety shown by 
 the departed during her illness, and asked if it 
 were not their wish to partake of her joy and to be 
 sharers in her felicity. I asked them if they would
 
 208 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 accompany me into the other room, and there, with 
 minds solemnized by the scene, join with me in 
 kneeling by the side of their sainted sister, praying 
 that by God's influence upon their minds there 
 might be no separation in an eternal world, and 
 that on the morn of the resurrection we might all 
 arise to behold Christ as our Redeemer, and receive 
 his blessing. 
 
 They all readily complied, and the proposal ap- 
 peared to bring relief to their sorrow. After gaz- 
 ing upon the beautiful and placid form of the 
 departed, we all knelt in prayer to Christ for his 
 divine blessing upon the survivors, asking that we 
 might become part of Christ's holy family, and be 
 interested in all the mercies of God obtained for 
 the penitent and believing through the atonement. 
 As God works by means, and as prayer was offered 
 to Him who appointed it and who promised to 
 bless it, I humbly trust and believe that the "sigh- 
 ings of a contrite heart and the desires of them 
 that were penitent" were heard and answered on 
 that occasion, for from that day the afflicted mother 
 and the weeping sisters were in the midst of their 
 grief made partakers of the departed sister's 
 
 joy- 
 
 " May I not, my dear friend, say that a most
 
 ROBBING THE DEAD. 209 
 
 remarkable train of providences has occurred since 
 I last was your guest ?" 
 
 " I grant it most readily," said Mr. M . 
 
 " But I have not yet finished," was my reply, 
 " for I have a third part to add." 
 
 " What was it ? I long to hear it, for one fact 
 tells more than a hundred arguments." 
 
 " As you may suppose, the fifty pounds coming 
 to me at that moment, and under those circum- 
 stances, caused me more pleasure than I can ex- 
 press, and far more than the donation itself could 
 confer. I am not very fond of silent gratitude : 
 if we feel thankful to God or to man, we ought to 
 show it, you know. I thanked my benevolent 
 friend of course, but I did not end here ; for being 
 delighted with his generosity, I made known in my 
 pastoral visits this kind act, to be added to many 
 others which the people of the town had received 
 at his hands. Not many months after the receipt 
 of his letter, a vacancy occurred in the represen- 
 tation of the town in parliament, and I urged this 
 kind-hearted man, as I knew he possessed experi- 
 ence, leisure and ample means, to oifer himself as 
 a candidate ; and although I could take no part in 
 the election, I heartily wished him success. He 
 complied with this wish, and presented himself be- 
 
 14
 
 210 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 fore his constituents at the proper time. His po- 
 litical views were in unison with the spirit of the 
 place, and the result was shown in my receiving, a 
 few weeks afterward, what my friend termed an 
 invitation to a gentleman to dine in a kitchen. I 
 accepted the invitation, and saw on the occasion, as 
 my neighbours, the late Sir Robert Peel and other 
 members of parliament dining at Bellamy's, which 
 was generally known as * the Kitchen ' of the old 
 House of Commons. 
 
 "Here, my good sir, ends my illustration of your 
 text when we last met in this room : ' He that 
 watches the hand of Providence will never want a 
 providence to watch ;' and I, while I live, shall 
 ever bless God that I read the paragraph headed . 
 ' Robbing the Dead.' "
 
 COMPROMISE. 
 
 F you are really in earnest in seeking the 
 kingdom of heaven, Henry, you must give 
 up bad companions." 
 
 " I do not think I have any, mother." 
 " There is Alfred Wilson." 
 " But he is not bad, he is only careless. It is 
 true he does not think of religion just as I do, but 
 then he will perhaps in time." 
 
 " You admit he is careless, that is he is lax in his 
 principles, worldly in his tastes and irreligious in 
 his habits. He has a great influence over you, and 
 will certainly hinder your progress in religion. 
 You cannot continue to be his constant friend and 
 companion, as you have been, and yet be devoted 
 to God." 
 
 "I think you are a little prejudiced, mother. 
 You never liked him, but a young man cannot 
 
 shut himself out of society, and Alfred, besides 
 
 211
 
 212 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 being such a fine-spirited fellow, knows such first- 
 rate people; and besides, he is in partnership with 
 his uncle, who by and by will retire, and then lie 
 means to take me in. It will be a considerable 
 advantage to me, for although of course I shall 
 take my own connection in with me, theirs is such 
 an old-established house." 
 
 "You cannot serve both God and mammon. 
 The first-rate company which has lately so much 
 absorbed you will draw away your heart from 
 Christ; and how can you pretend to be seeking 
 first the kingdom of God, if you closely ally your 
 interests with one who never takes your Master's 
 claims into consideration ? As to this partnership 
 scheme, I altogether disapprove of it." 
 
 " Oh, mother, you are too severe. It really will 
 not answer nowadays. Besides, our Saviour ate 
 and drank with publicans and sinners." 
 
 "That he might instruct and thereby save them. 
 I would not have you give up the soul of your 
 friend without an attempt to do him good. But if 
 he is bent on ' living to himself/ then part company, 
 or he will draw you away from right." 
 
 Henry sighed. "Talk to Alfred Wilson about 
 his soul, indeed! Mother, I am yet but a seeker; 
 how can I teach ?"
 
 COMPROMISE. 213 
 
 "You can warn, you can state your own convic- 
 tions, you can say how important you feel this mat- 
 ter to be, how firmly you are resolved to begin to 
 lead a new life, without professing to have already 
 obtained what I pray God may soon be yours." 
 
 After a short silence, Mrs. Roberts resumed: 
 " My dear boy, I know you are attached to Mr. 
 Wilson, but it is a friendship that will do you no 
 good, and may possibly do you much harm." 
 
 Henry Roberts had from infancy been instructed 
 in the way of salvation. He had often been under 
 conviction, but his attention had soon been caught 
 away and the good seed choked, though of late it 
 seemed as if his mother's prayers were to be fully an- 
 swered, and the most serious impressions dwelt on 
 the young man's mind. But he could not find 
 peace, for he would not give up all for Christ ; he 
 could not give up his most promising business ar- 
 rangements, nor dare the ridicule of his worldly 
 acquaintances. At the head of these stood Alfred 
 Wilson, uniting all these difficulties in his own per- 
 son ; and it is probable, if Henry could have acted 
 toward him as his mother recommended, other 
 efforts would have proved easy. This state of 
 things lasted some time, and Henry was perfectly 
 wretched, never finding courage to speak to his
 
 214 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 friend, until one day the other asked him what was 
 the matter. Thus driven into a corner, Henry took 
 courage and answered : 
 
 " I have been thinking a good deal lately, Wil- 
 son, on religious subjects." 
 
 " More's the pity, then, if it's to take all the life 
 out of you. I half suspected it when you made 
 an excuse for not going to the theatre the other 
 night." 
 
 " But, Alfred, must not a man think about such 
 things some time ?" 
 
 "Oh yes, when the right time comes. Probably 
 when I marry and become a householder, and all 
 that sort of thing, I shall be more thoughtful. I'm 
 young enough at present, and so are you, and we 
 have to make ourselves a position in the world." 
 
 Henry faltered out : " Now is the accepted time. 
 I almost wish you saw the matter as I do. I I 
 feel rather strongly on this point." 
 
 Alfred laughed : " Oh ! what, I ? no, thank you. 
 If you feel strongly, I would not for the world hurt 
 your feelings. A man has a right to his own opin- 
 ions, but don't preach to me. I'll not interfere 
 with your notions if you'll not try to drive them 
 on my acceptance. I think we'd better agree not 
 to talk on the subject. Mind, I don't like them,
 
 COMPROMISE. 215 
 
 they make you miserable, but I'll not interfere with 
 them. So you shall have your own way if you'll 
 let me have mine." 
 
 And so the conversation terminated. Conscience 
 was busy whispering: "Tell him that two cannot 
 walk together unless they be agreed ; that you feel 
 this subject of so great importance that you cannot 
 suppress your convictions without failing in your 
 duty to God, to yourself, to your friend." But 
 Henry refused to hear, and his unhappiness was 
 greatly increased. 
 
 Alfred Wilson was an orphan. His father was 
 a godly man, but he lost him and his mother when 
 very young. He had been brought up by an uncle 
 whose soul was absorbed in business, and he had no 
 idea of religion. He considered his friend in the 
 light of an unfortunate enthusiast, and without any 
 malicious intention of leading him back to sin, tried 
 every means of diverting his thoughts. Whenever 
 he proposed any amusement to which Henry would 
 offer a faint conscientious objection, Alfred would 
 at once give up the point, and without argument 
 substitute a stroll or something unquestionably 
 harmless. The subject was nevermore referred to 
 between them. Henry had not courage, and Alfred 
 thought his friend would come to his senses better
 
 216 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 without any interference. " I've noticed," lie would 
 say to himself, "that opposing these religious peo- 
 ple makes them worse. They think themselves 
 martyrs and champions, and get awfully obstinate 
 and contradicting." 
 
 Henry had not strength of mind enough to with- 
 draw from this dangerous companionship, and so 
 by little and little conscience was once more laid 
 asleep, and this time more soundly than ever. As 
 he lost his religious impressions, he became increas- 
 ingly absorbed in business. Money-making seemed 
 to become the one object and interest of his life. 
 
 His mother ceased her pleadings, for he so evi- 
 dently considered the subject an annoyance, and so 
 constantly answered that he had no time to attend 
 to such things, that she feared to do more harm 
 than good by a repetition of her arguments. She 
 therefore waited another opportunity, and mean- 
 while appealed constantly to the throne of mercy 
 on his behalf. 
 
 Even Alfred Wilson remonstrated, saying, "You 
 run to as great an excess in hard bargaining as you 
 once did in enthusiastic notions, and of the two I 
 would rather see a man weak than hard. You're 
 growing a regular screw ; it's not natural at your 
 age."
 
 COMPROMISE. 217 
 
 Mr. Wilson, senior, was a merchant with a very 
 extensive business. One of the most important of 
 his agents was stationed at a seaport town on the 
 west coast of England ; and as his employer's in- 
 terests had suffered through his dishonesty, it was 
 thought better that the junior partner in the firm 
 of Wilson Brothers should take his place, and re- 
 side there for some short time until affairs were 
 properly arranged. Alfred therefore started for 
 the scene of confusion, and found both his time and 
 his temper scarcely sufficient to meet the demands 
 made on them. As soon, however, as he began to 
 see clearly through the entangled accounts, he also 
 began to take a little relaxation ; and though he 
 still devoted rather more than business hours to the 
 duty of the office, he contrived to form acquaint- 
 ances, and cultivate one or two of his father's old 
 friends. True, he thought them rather " slow," as 
 he said, but he revered his father's memory, and 
 would not slight any one who had been attached to 
 him. 
 
 Amongst others was the old vicar of the parish, 
 who turned out to be one of his father's oldest and 
 most intimate friends. The old gentleman took a 
 great liking to Alfred for his father's sake, and he 
 was soon received in the family with unreserved
 
 218 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 cordiality. The lessons, and still more the life, of 
 the worthy vicar were, by God's blessing, made the 
 means of working an entire change in Alfred's 
 thoughts and feelings. He loved the old man with 
 filial affection, and well he might, for he was to him 
 a spiritual father. It is not surprising, therefore, 
 that after some time the vicar gave his hearty as- 
 sent to an engagement being formed between Alfred 
 and his only daughter, whose external graces and 
 accomplishments were crowned by the higher qual- 
 ities of good sense and true piety. 
 
 When Alfred Wilson returned to town his old 
 friends and companions were struck by the change 
 in his appearance. Grave and thoughtful, he cared 
 nothing for the companions in pleasure whose so- 
 ciety he had once enjoyed. Any reference to his 
 changed manners was evidently annoying to him ; 
 and though he would on such a hint rouse himself 
 to be polite and even cordial, the attempt was 
 but evanescent, and his former worldly com- 
 panions understood not the cause of his altered 
 manner. 
 
 His former carelessness of life was now a source 
 of humiliation and grief to him. Now that his 
 eyes were opened, how culpable his former disre- 
 gard of what now seemed of infinite importance I
 
 COMPROMISE. 219 
 
 He could no longer gainsay the truths and claims 
 of the gospel. Then, in what danger he had been 
 content to live, and now he scarcely ventured to 
 believe the possibility of his salvation ! Removed 
 from the kind and wise counsel of his spiritual 
 father, his heart was prone to fall into despondency, 
 looking at his own sinfulness and weakness, instead 
 of looking at the grace and sufficiency of the Saviour. 
 He now found himself longing for that frame of mind 
 he had once thought so undesirable ; for the terrors 
 of the broken law and the consciousness of past 
 guilt on one hand, with shame and contrition on 
 the other for a so long neglected salvation, filled his 
 days with gloom. He no longer tried to compro- 
 mise with God; he sincerely and perseveringly 
 sought the joys of the great salvation, and, accord- 
 ing to the promise of the Most High, his prayers 
 were not in vain. He sought and found peace in 
 believing. 
 
 Relieved from his load of sorrow and rejoicing 
 in God, his natural character once more asserted 
 itself, but with new and better aims. The energy, 
 the impulsive feelings, the flow of bright spirits, 
 now, instead of seeking employment in the haunts 
 of gayety, carried him unflagging through works 
 of obedience and charity. He was indeed often
 
 220 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 obliged to be checked in his zeal by wiser because 
 more experienced heads; but whilst he had the 
 good sense to defer to their opinion, he continued 
 in a course of ceaseless activity. Scheme after 
 scheme, work after work, were brought forward by 
 his earnest thought or carried through by his busy 
 hands. Too brave to fear ridicule, too warm- 
 hearted to see his old friends destitute of the bless- 
 ing he possessed, he sought them out, he argued 
 with them, he urged upon their attention a change 
 of heart ; and when they absolutely refused to hear, 
 he parted company with them, but not till he had 
 often repeated his attempts. 
 
 With some of them, to his great joy, he suc- 
 ceeded, and amongst the number was Henry Rob- 
 erts. Immersed in the cares of business, Roberts 
 long turned a deaf ear to his entreaties, but Wil- 
 son, considering himself as partly the cause of his 
 friend's apostasy, had long patience with him. At 
 last even Wilson felt reluctantly that it was vain to 
 persevere, and sorrowfully bade him farewell. "I 
 cannot say any more to you than I have said ; you 
 will not tolerate the subject of religion, and I can 
 have no companion who objects to its introduction, 
 for it is constantly present in my thoughts." 
 
 " But the partnership ?" said Roberts, startled.
 
 COMPROMISE, 221 
 
 "Must drop through. I have no hope that our 
 business arrangements would work amicably when 
 we should conduct them on such different prin- 
 ciples." 
 
 "You are thinking of making some arrange- 
 ment more advantageous to you," answered Rob- 
 erts, still believing in a merely interested motive. 
 
 " No ; I have thought of taking in P , for 
 
 my uncle is preparing to retire. But though it 
 would be to my advantage to take you, I cannot do 
 it," 
 
 Roberts went home and thought deeply. He 
 saw that Wilson was sacrificing his pecuniary in- 
 terests to his religion ; he felt that he was sincere 
 or he would not have taken so decided a step. He 
 remembered, too, that if he had but had equal 
 courage long ago he might have been saved the 
 mortification he that day experienced. His friend's 
 pleadings he had disregarded, but his arrow sent at 
 a venture had come home, for it filled him with 
 shame for the past. 
 
 There is no need to dwell further on this. The 
 widow's prayers were answered by these events in 
 God's good providence. Henry at last joined 
 himself heartily to the flock of Christ. The two 
 young men went into business together, and were
 
 222 
 
 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 as zealous in their works of charity as in their 
 commercial undertakings; and Wilson brought 
 home another partner to his hearth, a partner for 
 life who, it is not necessary to say.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER, 
 
 OR THE LOST BOOK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 |EPEND on it, there's a great deal lost by 
 
 not looking round the corner. 
 
 In that old eating-house in Swan lane, 
 
 for instance, not a ray of sunshine entered 
 more than was enough to make the darkness visi- 
 ble. How could it be otherwise ? Was not there 
 a row of houses opposite, and such a narrow di- 
 vision between that you could almost shake hands 
 across, as in some of the wynds of the old city of 
 Edinburgh ? In order that the customers might 
 see what they bought a lamp was burning at the 
 back of the shop ; but then what was that com- 
 pared with the fresh, bright sunshine? Such a 
 window, too, it had to let in the light, and such 
 arrangements to keep it out ! The window was not 
 very large, and the heavy casing made it less ; the 
 glass was of ancient date, in small squares, some 
 
 223
 
 224 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 greenish, some yellowish, some cracked and mended 
 with strips of paper, and a heavy ledge, like a 
 huge eyebrow, hung over the top. Its arrange- 
 ments completed its character. Sausages in ropes 
 and black puddings in rings hung over the panes 
 that could best be seen through ; and huge masses 
 of questionable-looking pudding, with piles of 
 equally questionable-looking mutton-pies, wholly 
 obscured the lower part. So the only hope for 
 business was to make the best of the lamp, and 
 the only hope for heart's ease and health was to 
 look round the corner. 
 
 The corner! What corner? 
 
 Why, just seven houses lower down there was a 
 break in the lane, and though the corner house, 
 being a broker's, did all in its power to destroy the 
 blessing of that fact by putting out dismal relics 
 of venerable household goods, and so filling up the 
 gap, yet there was a thoroughfare left, and if you 
 took a judicious stand, so as to get a sight between 
 two legs of a table hoisted on a miscellaneous base, 
 you might see enough to induce you to thread your 
 way among the articles, and, fairly turning the cor- 
 ner, to walk down the friendly avenue to a bright 
 and healthy scene. Yes, bright and healthy, com- 
 posed of fields with hedges and hedgerow timber;
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 225 
 
 in the summer yellow with buttercups, in the au- 
 tumn lilac with the meadow saffron, and even in 
 winter presenting a delightful expanse, though 
 covered with snow. For Swan lane was a border 
 district almost the very hem we may say of the 
 town and it was puzzling to think how anything 
 so dark and dismal should be so close to a region 
 of light. 
 
 Dark and dismal ! If Quality Fogg had been 
 told it was dark and dismal, he would have pitied 
 the speaker as one deluded. To him there was no 
 place so pleasant in summer, so genial in winter, 
 as his shop the eating-house with the lamp at the 
 back. 
 
 Mr. Luggett, " the auctioneer," as he was styled 
 by courtesy, seven doors lower down, was a busi- 
 ness man and a bustling man ; he was out early 
 and late, setting up and taking down his furniture, 
 putting it into more enticing positions, building 
 more picturesque pyramids. But he was an idler 
 compared with Quality ; often you might see him 
 standing before a pile of broken chairs haranguing 
 the landlord of "The Three Tuns," who lived at 
 the opposite corner, on politics by the half hour 
 together, and sometimes beyond it; often, too, you 
 might see him when customers wore slack, with his 
 
 15
 
 226 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 arms crossed behind his back, walking leisurely 
 down the street toward the buttercups and daisies, 
 where he would watch the lads at cricket or dis- 
 cuss the news of the day with some fellow-idler. 
 
 In truth, Mr. Luggett, as was well known, hav- 
 ing been a busy business man for many years, had 
 amassed a considerable property, and was at lib- 
 erty now to add to it or not as he chose. So he 
 took things more easily than he had done in old 
 times ; but for all that, he was true to the maxim, 
 " Business first and pleasure afterward ;" the differ- 
 ence between him and Quality being this, that with 
 Quality business and pleasure were identical. The 
 brightest scene imagination could paint would have 
 faded in Quality's eyes before the back of his shop, 
 where he sat behind a canvas screen when no cus- 
 tomers were waiting for him and no work of ar- 
 rangement among the dainties in the window de- 
 manded his attention. 
 
 Behind this screen, over which hung the lamp, 
 lighting both sides of it, was a small heavy table 
 with a close-fitting drawer and sound lock. At 
 this, when he was at liberty for such part of his 
 business, he would go over his accounts, make out 
 his little bills and cast up all his expectations. 
 
 No one could open the shop door without tink-
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 227 
 
 ling a bell that hung to it, and the first vibration 
 brought him out, like a spider after a fly, face to 
 face with the visitor. Whoever that visitor was, 
 whether a matron of imposing aspect for a stout 
 dish of ham and beef or an urchin not up to the 
 counter for a penny pie, it mattered not to him ; he 
 was urbanity always, with his pen behind his ear 
 and his spectacles pushed up on his forehead ; his 
 mild voice and his smile so gentle greeted all alike, 
 and although his articles were in high reputation, 
 and he w r as considered liberal in his prices, it is 
 doubtful if he did not owe much of his business to 
 his own personal merits. 
 
 It was December, and late in the month. The 
 snow had fallen somewhat thickly for several days, 
 and all appearances were in favour of an early 
 winter and a hard one. Quality was at his little 
 table; he had not been disturbed for the last half 
 hour, and he was deep in his ledger. 
 
 " Tucker," he said" Tucker, fol. 89." And he 
 turned to "fol. 89" in his ledger. 
 
 " Ah, but this isn't near all of it," he said ; 
 " she owes me as much again as this, I know. Let 
 me see." And he went carefully over the items 
 and frowned over the dates. 
 
 " It must be in the old ledger. That's it !" he
 
 228 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 cried. An.d opening the table drawer, lie brought 
 out the old ledger, and turning to T, soon found 
 Tucker. 
 
 " Ah, ha ! here we are. Yes, yes ; I knew it 
 must be more than that. ' Part of chine, weigh- 
 ing Gibs., at 6d. ;' to be sure, that was the first 
 thing against her; I remember it. Well, it's 
 time it was paid. I wonder what makes her so 
 slow about it? She used to be as ready as any 
 one readier than most. I must look her up." 
 
 And taking a long slip of paper with the regu- 
 lar ruling, he headed it with a neat flourish, 
 
 Mrs. Sarah Tucker to Quality Fogg. 
 
 And against the date made the first entry : " To 
 part of a chine of pork," etc. 
 
 He was so busy, so much interested in his work, 
 that for once the bell tinkled without arousing 
 him ; he heard it indeed, but his ledger threw a 
 spell around him and kept him at his table. 
 
 But it was not for long; he started up, stuck his 
 pen behind his ear and faced a little girl who was 
 delighting her eyes with the endless riches of the 
 window. 
 
 "What is it, my dear?" he asked with as much 
 serenity as if he had not been in the least inter-
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 229 
 
 rupted, and as much politeness as if his customer 
 had been Mrs. Tucker herself come to pay her bill. 
 
 " My mother says will you let me have all the 
 beef you can for this?" said the child, laying a 
 fourpenny piece on the counter. 
 
 " Beef, my dear ?" said Quality ; " beef is very 
 expensive beef like mine. I couldn't cut you much 
 for that, not enough for a family. These beautful 
 puddings are very cheap, and much more profit- 
 able ; these links are threepence apiece, but as it's 
 Christmas-time and yon are a regular customer, 
 I'll let you have two for your fourpenny bit. Go 
 back and ask your mother whether she will have 
 them instead of the beef." 
 
 The little girl looked wistfully on the puddings 
 as he dangled them on his finger, but she said, 
 " The beef is for Tommy ; it isn't for us." 
 
 " For Tommy ! what, your little brother ?" asked 
 Quality. 
 
 " Yes ; he's very ill ; he can't eat potatoes, and 
 mother thought he might fancy a little of your 
 beef. He said it looked as red as the ham the last 
 time he came to the shop, and he has often talked 
 about it since," answered the child. 
 
 "Well, to be sure!" cried Quality. "Then he 
 Bhall have a slice, that he shall ; and you can tell
 
 230 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 him I have sent it to him for a Christmas-box, as 
 he is an old customer, poor little fellow ! I hope he 
 will soon be better, that I do." And turning to 
 the round of beef, that did indeed look as red as 
 the ham, he cut a very delicate slice, large but thin 
 as lace, and rolled it up in a tolerably clean piece 
 of paper. 
 
 " Here, my dear, this is for Tommy ; and let me 
 pick out two nice puddings for your money." 
 
 Then he went gravely over the puddings, but 
 ended his search by declaring he believed there was 
 no difference in them all were equally good ; so 
 he gave her the two he had first picked out, and 
 added a small slice of plum-pudding for herself. 
 
 The child held her pinafore for her unexpected 
 treasures, smiled gratefully, and said, " A happy 
 Christmas to you, Mr. Fogg, and thank you 
 kindly." 
 
 " Good child ! same to you," said Quality, re- 
 turning the smile as he watched her out of the 
 shop. 
 
 " Nice, tidy little thing !" he said to himself as 
 he returned to his table; "tidy people they are 
 altogether. The mother is superior, very superior. 
 I doubt they are poor, very poor. Ah, dear ! it's 
 wonderful how some do to live !"
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 231 
 
 Then/ pulling down his spectacles and taking 
 his pen from his ear, he returned once more to 
 Mrs. Tucker. 
 
 "To a dish of a-la-mode beef, Is. 4d. A-la- 
 niode beef! good thought! I haven't made any 
 this winter. Beef being so dear, I thought it 
 mightn't answer, but I think I will ; it's a nice 
 thing, a very nice thing. Then when you con- 
 sider what a good way it is of getting rid of the 
 bite, though to be sure, one can put them into 
 pies, but still they make up better in the a-la- 
 mode ; and then I can serve it strong or weak, as 
 customers can. pay for it ; and if it's ever so wa- 
 tered, it makes a comfortable dish for a poor family 
 to help the potatoes ! I'll get some beef to-mor- 
 row and make it; and and maybe I'll send a 
 little to Tommy Grant, poor fellow !" 
 
 Mrs. Tucker's bill, notwithstanding these inter- 
 ruptions, proceeded till even Quality himself felt 
 timid at its length. 
 
 "But she has had it all, every article," he ex- 
 claimed. "I hate long bills; if people pay as they 
 go, they know they have their money's worth, but 
 when they leave it to putting down, they always 
 think much of it, whatever it is ! And she's sure 
 to say when she gets this, ' Mr. Fogg, I don't
 
 232 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 remember them sausages ;' or, ' Dear Mr. Fogg, 
 isn't it a mistake about that griskin ?' " 
 
 As he laid the bill aside, finished and ready for 
 delivery, he looked over the old ledger before put- 
 ting it back in the drawer, standing as he did so, 
 for he was cramped with sitting ; and although he 
 had a glowing chafing-dish near his feet and the 
 shop was warm by means of a baker's oven next 
 door, he felt cold. 
 
 " I won't do any more to-night," he thought, 
 still holding the ledger; "I'll just shift the shop, 
 and then have my supper and go to bed." 
 
 Yet, as he said the words, he stood turning over 
 leaf after leaf and commenting on the names that 
 met his eye. 
 
 "Dillboy. Ah, he's dead, poor fellow! He 
 made a bad end of it, but he didn't owe me any- 
 thing; very honest in his way, poor fellow ! That 
 drink (what a shocking thing it is !) ruined him, 
 and killed him at last; and such a fine hearty fel- 
 low as he was, and leaving all those children to 
 go to rack and ruin ; very bad ! very wrong ! But 
 there ! God is very merciful. I hope he was for- 
 given at last. 
 
 " Davis. An old screw ; used to bate me down 
 till I was forced to tell him civilly he might take
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 233 
 
 it or leave it. He's gone, and his money's scattered 
 among people he wouldn't have given a pin's 
 head to when he was alive. Give ! why he almost 
 starved himself because he hadn't the heart to let 
 a penny go. Well, I'm glad nobody can lay it to 
 my door that I'm a screw. No, whatever I am, I 
 am not that." 
 
 And so he went on from name to name ; very few 
 of those at the end, none of those at the beginning, 
 belonged to living people. 
 
 " To be- sure ! To be sure ! how many are 
 gone !" he cried, as he shut it up. " Well, consid- 
 ering I've been in business near upon thirty-eight 
 years, it's not surprising. We must all die. Yes, 
 we must all die. The great thing is to be prepared, 
 and I hope I shall, I'm sure." 
 
 And he looked very serious as he spoke, much 
 as he looked in his seat at Sunday worship, whether 
 at church or chapel, for he went in turns to both ; 
 much as he looked when the clergyman of the dis- 
 trict or the Wesleyan minister called upon him to 
 see how he was going on or to collect his sub- 
 scriptions; but the expression gradually disap- 
 peared as he locked up the ledger and went into 
 the shop to " right it." 
 
 He had come upon several bad debts in his
 
 234 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 glance over old times ; these remained in his mind 
 after the necessity of preparing for death had van- 
 ished from it, and shared his thoughts with the 
 best way of preparing a-la-rnode beef in the pres- 
 ent dear times, and the best place to get the beef. 
 Consequently, there was a change from the pensive 
 to the braced-up-for-action expression. 
 
 He had settled and protected his various goods 
 under their appropriate shelters, and was taking a 
 farewell glance round, when a violent shaking of 
 the door sent the bell into fits of ringing and made 
 all the little pies on the counter dance under their 
 cover. 
 
 He hadn't time to be startled into any doubtful 
 thoughts, for a strong, loud voice from without 
 shouted, "Master Fogg Quality I say. Let 
 us in." 
 
 " What, Davy Bowles, you ?" said Quality, go- 
 ing to the door ; " who'd have thought of seeing 
 you at this time of night?" 
 
 " You shouldn't shut up so awk'ard soon," said 
 Davy, coming in all over snow, which he shook off 
 to the besprinkling of Quality's pots, pans and 
 baskets. 
 
 " It all turns to wet !" said Quality, in a depre- 
 cating tone, peering up into his customer's huge
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 235 
 
 face, that was as high up as the lamp and a great 
 deal more lively-looking. 
 
 " I ought to know that a sight better than you," 
 said Davy with a hearty laugh ; " haven't I been 
 out in it all day? and haven't you been sitting here 
 as snug as if you'd been baked in one of your own 
 pies ? Here ! take off them hats and let's see 
 what's under 'em," he continued, pointing to the 
 old sieves, cloths and other devices under which 
 the viands were enshrined. 
 
 Quality went with as much alacrity to undo his 
 previous work as if he had prepared it for that 
 express purpose, and never rested till he had laid 
 the whole bare before his visitor. Davy looked at 
 dish after dish and pan after pan, but seemed dis- 
 satisfied ; he shook his head at each till Quality's 
 face wore a very plaintive expression. 
 
 " This is how it is," said Davy j " a chap has 
 been very bad hurt at the embankment, where 
 we've been clearing the snow and making the wall 
 as good as we can for the time present, and he's in 
 a sad low way, and I thought I'd get him a bit of 
 summat spicy for supper." 
 
 Quality smiled a kind smile of approbation, and 
 looked earnestly among his dainties to see if he 
 couldn't help to select something suitable.
 
 236 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " Reach me one of them," said Davy, pointing 
 to the black puddings that hung now against the 
 wall. 
 
 " He mightn't like " Quality began remon- 
 strating. 
 
 " Not for him, man, for me ; I'm very hungry, 
 and it looks very inviting; hand over. Boiled, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 Quality assented, and Davy bit off a tolerable 
 portion, laying his hand on a penny roll that stood 
 convenient. 
 
 " What do you say to this ?" said Quality, lay- 
 ing his knife on the beef. " I sent a slice to a sick 
 person to-night ; cut thin it's quite enticing, I as- 
 sure you." 
 
 " Cut thick would be more enticing to me," said 
 Davy, laughing ; " but it's the best thing I see, so 
 you may give me a pound or so." 
 
 Quality went to work, cut lace-like slice after 
 slice till the scale went down. 
 
 " Hold you !" cried Davy ; " you're going over- 
 weight." 
 
 Quality smiled. " Rather go over than under 
 any time ; and when I know it's for charity, I'm 
 more wishful to be free." 
 
 " That's handsome," said Davy, taking out the
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 237 
 
 money ; " but I doubt you won't leave off with a 
 fortune if you come that too often." 
 
 " It's better to leave off with a good conscience," 
 said Quality. " We must leave the largest fortune 
 behind us, you know, but a good conscience will 
 go with us." 
 
 " I don't expect ever to have one worth carrying 
 not I," said Davy, carelessly, as he counted out 
 his coppers. " What's the puddin' ? and give me 
 another." 
 
 Quality reached the pudding, and made a little 
 speech on the necessity and value of a good con- 
 science. 
 
 "All right! If you've got one, you mind and 
 keep it, and when you've got ever a bit of goodness 
 more than you want for yourself, hand it over to 
 me," said Davy, carrying his beef gently, while he 
 shoved the pudding and another roll into the first 
 pocket that came convenient. 
 
 " Nothing more ?" said Quality, politely. 
 
 " Not to-night ; if you'd got a mess of that hot 
 stuff you used to make, I'd have took him a taste 
 of that ; but never mind." 
 
 "A-la-mode beef? going to make it to-mor- 
 row," said Quality. 
 
 " Do, and save a lot for me," said Davy.
 
 238 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " I w'll, and I hope the beef will do the poor 
 man good," said Quality. 
 
 " Thank you ; same time it won't, for he's as sure 
 to die as you are to go to bed, depend upon that," 
 said Davy. 
 
 " Oh dear, dear !" said Quality. " Well, it's to 
 be hoped he's a good Christian man, and then it'll 
 be all for the best for him." 
 
 "Don't know about his goodness," said Davy, 
 going out ; " but for Christian, he's not one of no 
 sort, for he's a Jew. Good-night !" 
 
 "A Jew! dear heart!" exclaimed Quality as he 
 put up the bar and turned the key and drew the 
 bolts. 
 
 " What a shocking thing to be a Jew ! Not but 
 what I've known some very nice people among 
 them, very. There was Ephraim Jacobs ; he dealt 
 with rne for years, and a very upright man he was, 
 and a good customer, and never bated a penny on 
 an article, never ; and there was Amos Levi, he was 
 another : paid me once a quarter as regular as the 
 day came and never missed. And there was Judah 
 Cohen ; many and many a pig I've bought of him 
 and never saw a shade of cheatery ; no, it's a pity 
 they are Jews, and I wish they were not, poor 
 things ! but God is very merciful, and I hope we
 
 QUALITY. FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 239 
 
 ehall all be forgiven if we do our best, provided we 
 don't know any better." 
 
 And when Quality lay down in his bed, after 
 having said his accustomed prayers, which issued, 
 after the first few words, only from his lips, his 
 heart and mind being wholly occupied with the 
 best way to get and the most satisfactory way to 
 prepare his a-la-mode beef, he felt his heart warm 
 with approbation of himself. He was no Jew; 
 he was a just more than just, generous Chris- 
 tian. He didn't drink, like poor Dillboy ; he was 
 no screw, like Davis. And the nice little slice of 
 beef he had sent to Tommy, and the pudding he 
 had given to the little girl, and the a-la-mode beef 
 he meant to send when it was ready, and the over- 
 weight he had given to Davy Bowles, and the good 
 words he had spoken, and his charitable hopes that 
 all people, Jews and drunkards, and all unbelievers 
 and misbelievers, would get to heaven at last, wove 
 themselves into a beautiful vision upon which he 
 gazed with sweet satisfaction until he fell asleep. 
 He fell asleep, but he dreamed. At first it was of 
 the long bill of Mrs. Tucker, which kept coming 
 out of the envelope as fast as he put it in ; then it 
 was of the bell ringing and making the things in 
 the shop fall down ; then of all manner of people,
 
 240 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 real and unreal, doing all manner of things likely 
 and unlikely the fruit of course of his day's ad- 
 ventures and labours and of the study of his ledger. 
 But toward morning his thoughts took a more 
 definite and connected shape. He dreamt that he 
 was on a road with Davy Bowles and many other 
 people; he carried in his hands his great bread- 
 basket, very heavy, containing he knew not what ; 
 Davy was joking and laughing with every one; 
 some looked as gay as he did, others looked grave, 
 others sorrowful. As his dream advanced, he felt 
 that he was going to a gate for admittance, and 
 that this was no other than the gate of heaven, and 
 he became aware that the basket which he carried 
 contained all his good deeds, by which he was to 
 pay to get in ; everything good he had said or done 
 or intended was in it, down to the a-la-mode beef 
 he meant to send to little Tommy. He felt it to 
 be so heavy that he thought at first he had more 
 than enough, but, strange to say, the farther he 
 walked the lighter it grew, and when he was close 
 up at the gate he opened it and there w r as nothing 
 in it but a little dust. Terror and surprise over- 
 whelmed him; he looked about and behind him, 
 to see if he had let any fall ; alas, no ! and a little 
 dust was all he had to offer at the gate. The gate
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 241 
 
 opened, he looked eagerly to see who got in ; not 
 one he knew was among them except little Tommy. 
 Full of despair, as the gate was about to close he 
 rushed up with his basket, but drew back abashed 
 when he remembered it held nothing but dust. 
 
 He awoke sobbing, and for a few seconds could 
 hardly believe that he was not still on the road 
 with the closed gate before him ; he felt about for 
 his empty basket, and only understood that he had 
 been dreaming when the cold air played roughly 
 on his exposed arms and made him draw them 
 under the clothes. 
 
 When daylight came and business began, he 
 wondered he could have been so moved by a 
 dream, but every time he looked at his bread- 
 basket he had an uncomfortable feeling he could 
 not get rid of. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 As the reader will have discovered, Quality Fogg 
 had an eye to both worlds, and his heart played 
 see-saw with them. Oil Sunday he was all for 
 heaven, and no one was more critical on the 
 preacher or more edifying in his remarks on the 
 sermon. To be sure, out of service-time, when he 
 
 10
 
 242 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 was at home getting the credit of reading his Bible 
 or some inferior help to piety, he generally went to 
 sleep, making up for late going to bed and early 
 rising during during the week ; nay, he occasionally 
 helped on a few preparations for the next morning, 
 such as he could do without damaging his best 
 clothes or very flagrantly offending his conscience. 
 But he looked serious all the time, and often inter- 
 rupted a calculation of how much profit he should 
 make on a pan of stewed trotters by a sigh and a 
 sage reflection on the vanity of human life, soon 
 returning, however, to the said calculation with 
 the same serious expression of countenance, assured 
 that his trotters came under " works of necessity." 
 He never kept his shop open on a Sunday not 
 for a fortune would he have done it ; and when any 
 person of doubtful credit knocked and asked as a 
 favour for a pie or a sausage, he answered from the 
 up-stairs window that he was a Sabbath -keeper, 
 and was very much shocked that there should be 
 Sabbath-breakers, and instead of the pie he favoured 
 the applicant with some gratuitous good advice. 
 But if Mr. Luggett had friends unexpectedly, and 
 \vanted an additional relish for dinner, or if the 
 landlord of the Three Tuns had an influx of cus- 
 tomers and required extra ham and beef, he couldn't
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 243 
 
 refuse : how could he ? Wouldn't it have been an 
 infringement of the law, " Do as you would be done 
 by ?" Of course it would ; so, with a grave assertion 
 that he attended to them entirely out of brotherly 
 kindness, he served them, and put it down to " acts 
 of mercy." 
 
 However inconsistently with his profession the 
 Sunday was spent, however ill at ease he was 
 during the greater part of it when he was not 
 asleep or engaged in some venial transgression of 
 it, there was no mistake about the other end of the 
 see-saw when he was down upon earth namely, 
 during the week. On Sunday he indulged long in 
 the morning, and looked repeatedly at his clock in 
 the evening that he might see when it was a decent 
 hour for going to bed. On Monday he got up 
 before he was well awake, and was generally half 
 asleep before he lay down at night. He would 
 have put leaden weights upon time on Monday, 
 but made it all feathers on Sunday. In short, 
 although he persisted in his wish to go to heaven, 
 and in his firm intention of going there, an eternal 
 Sabbath, " where saints for ever sing His praise," 
 promised very little happiness to him, and if he 
 had attached any meaning to the hymns he sang in 
 public worship, he would have thought so. He
 
 244 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 had misgivings at times that he came short of 
 heavenly-mindedness, and always spoke of himself 
 to a minister in the most deprecating terms, such 
 a confession having the effect of satisfying his con- 
 science while it gained him credit for humility. 
 
 The films that come upon the soul's vision by 
 long habit grow very thick, and it requires a pow- 
 erful light to pierce them. Once in his early youth 
 Quality had received serious impressions, and to 
 the faint remains of them his clinging to heaven 
 was owing, but the cares of this world and the de- 
 ceitfulness of riches had dimmed his perceptions, 
 and every year had in closing found him darker. 
 By nothing could he better have tested his true 
 state than his want of love for Sabbath rest and 
 spiritual exercises : his chapter, that through long 
 custom he formally began but generally fell asleep 
 over before going to bed on Sunday night, was the 
 most tiresome of the " necessary evils" of the day, 
 and glad he was to shut up the Bible and lay it on 
 the shelf till the next Sunday. 
 
 But would he have told you, reader, that he was 
 tired to death of the Sunday, that he hated the 
 bore of reading, that he had become in his true 
 heart ready to say, "When will the Sabbath be 
 gone, that we may get gain ?" Oh no ! indeed he
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 245 
 
 would not have confessed it to himself. No; as 
 soon as he could no longer hold his own having 
 made his own as much as he could he meant to 
 go to heaven, and, according to popular opinion, 
 he was in the way for it. 
 
 But even this world with all its pleasing varie- 
 ties of work and money-getting was not perfect. 
 No man, in his way, enjoyed life more than Quality 
 Fogg, but he had a trouble. 
 
 That trouble was Mr. Luggett. 
 
 Mr. Luggett was a different man from Quality ; 
 he had not in any sense the form of godliness. He 
 and the landlord of the Three Tuns and a few other 
 choice spirits composed a club, of which Quality, 
 from business motives, was obliged to be a mem- 
 ber; and when he attended it, he always came 
 home with confusion of head and uneasiness of 
 heart. The company of profane persons was very 
 distasteful to him ; he felt almost as if he were in- 
 volved in their peril. The members were most of 
 them important customers, therefore he did not like 
 to keep away, nor did he think it prudent to con- 
 tradict or censure any of their extravagances. 
 
 Mr. Luggett, who was proud of his high position 
 as an independent man who merely kept in busi- 
 ness to amuse himself, considered himself the lead-
 
 246 ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 ing speaker, and having a contempt for religion of 
 all kinds, as he said, had a special scorn for what 
 he called cant. Cant, therefore, was one of his 
 favourite subjects of attack on club nights, and it 
 was easy to see that Quality was by him looked 
 upon as the representative of cant. 
 
 But you can't quarrel with a man who won't 
 quarrel. Quality never heard the jeers, felt the 
 slaps nor saw the winks directed at him at least 
 the club might have thought so ; he never winced, 
 never retaliated, but he went home every time 
 more fervently wishing either that Mr. Luggett 
 would leave Swan lane or that he were himself 
 independent of business. 
 
 At the last meeting there had been a discussion 
 of the question of a subscription for the starving 
 poor. 
 
 " Why should the poor starve ?" said Mr. Lug- 
 gett; "isn't there 'the house'? Don't we pay 
 rates ?" 
 
 Most of the members were of the same mind, 
 and some of them spoke roughly of the obstinacy 
 and wrongheadedness of the poor for choosing to 
 starve in spite of their abundant resources. 
 
 " Do what you will for 'em, they'll never be 
 better off," said one member. " I've got a lodger,
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 247 
 
 a widow woman with four children, and one of 
 'em dying, they tell me, and I've told her to go to 
 the house. But not a bit of it ; she'll stay and 
 die first, I believe." 
 
 " I'd turn her out," said Mr. Luggett between 
 the puffs of his pipe. 
 
 "I can't while she pays her rent," said the 
 other. 
 
 " How do you know she is starving, sir, if she 
 pays her rent ?" Quality ventured to ask politely. 
 
 " I know she must be ; all she gets is by sewing, 
 and we all understand the ( comings in' that way." 
 
 " Is her name Grant ?" asked Quality. 
 
 " Yes, I believe it is," was the answer. 
 
 " I was afraid they were very poor, but they are 
 very honest ; they've never once sent to me without 
 the money." 
 
 " They don't send very often, do they ?" said the 
 man, contemptuously. 
 
 "No, poor things; it's a pity she won't go to 
 the house for the winter; they could come out 
 again in the spring," said Quality. "Couldn't 
 you persuade her ?" 
 
 " Not I ; I've given her my mind once ; but as 
 soon as ever she slips a week's pay she shall go, 
 whether she likes it or not."
 
 248. RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Winks ; it's of no use to 
 encourage such pride and independence/' said Mr. 
 Luggett, approvingly. 
 
 Quality said nothing, but he thought of little 
 Tommy, and remembered with pleasure that he 
 saw him get in at the gate. 
 
 The company having disposed of the relief ques- 
 tion by the philosophical resolution that poor peo- 
 ple were great pests, and the less they were en- 
 couraged the better, went on to abuse all public 
 characters and measures that didn't entirely fit in 
 with their tastes; gave their opinions with the 
 assurance that is compatible only with perfect igno- 
 rance or perfect knowledge, and wound up by some 
 subjects nearer home, the worth of property and 
 the advance of trade in that immediate neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 As the drink increased, confidences became more 
 intimate, and discussions and disclosures of a per- 
 sonal nature ensued. Thus Mr. Luggett, who was 
 a great boaster, declared that he had given a fabu- 
 lous price for the coat he wore, which he submitted 
 to the examination of the company, and he further 
 indulged them with an account of his new stock- 
 ings, woolen, thick-ribbed, of which he had bought 
 six pairs at the cost of
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 249 
 
 Quality wondered wondered if he should ever 
 be so wealthy as to possess such a coat, or to be the 
 owner of so many new stockings of such a value 
 at once. 
 
 He got away as soon as he could without draw- 
 ing down Mr. Luggett's taunting remarks, and got 
 home just in time to save his door from an assault 
 by Davy Bowles. 
 
 "Oh, Davy, I've just got away from club," he 
 exclaimed ; " I'm so glad I'm in time for you." 
 
 " So am I," said Davy. " Is the beef-gruel 
 made?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, the a-la-mode ? quite," said Quality, 
 bustling in. " Dear me ! how cold it is to-night." 
 
 " Cold !" echoed Davy, with a shrug ; " you 
 wouldn't say it was cold if you'd had my run." 
 
 " Where have you been ?" asked Quality, serv- 
 ing out the beef. 
 
 " Oh, never mind where. Put some more ; that's 
 not worth taking," replied Davy, watching him. 
 
 " It comes high," remarked Quality, mentioning 
 the price ; " and I couldn't let it go under that." 
 
 Davy put his hands in his pockets and rum- 
 maged about, then brought out a shilling and a 
 few coppers with rather a blank look. 
 
 " Ain't got another dump !" he exclaimed.
 
 250 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 "Well," said Quality, "then, perhaps, just a 
 small taste to-night would be best. I'll put you 
 this measure for sixpence; he can't eat much at any 
 time you see." 
 
 "Palaver! fill my can ; I'll find the pay," said 
 Davy, impatiently. 
 
 Quality admired his friend's generosity ; he had 
 a high opinion also of his integrity ; but he was 
 not a person whom he thought it prudent to trust. 
 Davy's work was often dangerous, which made life 
 in his case more than ordinarily uncertain, or if life 
 was not sacrificed, his limbs might be so blemished 
 as to lay him by helpless for a long time; and 
 Quality's conscience would have protested against 
 his urging payment of a debt under such circum- 
 stances (more especially as it would be of no use to 
 do it), therefore he had always studiously avoided 
 giving him credit. 
 
 He looked at the small measure and the great 
 can, at the shilling and twopence-halfpenny on the 
 counter, and he deliberated. 
 
 "It's very strong uncommonly strong," he 
 said, when he had settled what was best to do ; 
 " supposing I was to put the sixpenny worth into 
 the can and fill it up, or halfway up, we'll say, with 
 water."
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 251 
 
 "And give the water in?" demanded Davy, with 
 a satirical grin. 
 
 "Well, I just proposed it to save you," said 
 Quality, half ashamed; "sick people ought not 
 to have such rich things ; so it's better for the poor 
 man too." 
 
 " All right, but it ain't my way to make presents 
 of pump-water, you see, more partickler as it's plen- 
 tiful enough in that family as never sees much be- 
 sides ; so fill up my can, and what's over pay, I'll 
 bring you next time." 
 
 " But won't it be inconvenient to spare all you 
 have till settling day comes round ?" asked Qual- 
 ity, pausing as he put the money into the till. 
 
 " Oh, I can do two ways, with and without, when 
 I'm pushed a bit," said Davy, who wouldn't look 
 at the eatables, a goodly portion of which he could 
 well have disposed of. 
 
 " Any trifle in my way," said Quality, relenting, 
 for he had a pretty just guess at the truth, "I'll 
 let you have of course, though it's not my way 
 much to give credit, but I know you'll be out of 
 debt as soon as you've got the chance ; would you 
 like to take a bit for your own supper, now?" 
 
 " Well, I don't mind if I do," said Davy, re- 
 turning quickly to the counter and helping him-
 
 252 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 self bountifully while Quality kept watch of the 
 items and began to improve the occasion, saying, 
 " And how is the poor man ? I'm glad to see you 
 so charitable, Davy ; you'll never lose by it, you 
 may be sure." 
 
 " Never expected to," said Davy, with indiffer- 
 ence, continuing to eat. 
 
 " No, we may look to gain by what we give," 
 said Quality; "it's laying up treasure in heaven, 
 and what can be better than doing that ?" 
 
 Davy looked at him with an expression half 
 serious, half quizzical, as he replied : 
 
 " Do you believe as there'll be any account took 
 in heaven of this beef-gruel as I'm giving to poor 
 Tom?" 
 
 " I should hope so," said Quality, gravely. 
 
 " I don't," said Davy, bluntly. 
 
 " Everything we do to please God will be re- 
 warded, you know," said Quality, whose thoughts, 
 notwithstanding, involuntarily reverted to his 
 empty basket. 
 
 , " But I don't know as I'm thinking about pleas- 
 ing God. I do it to please myself," said Davy. 
 
 " That shows you are good, if it pleases you to 
 do good things; and so you are all right, though 
 you don't see it," said Quality.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 253 
 
 "I all right? you all right? ha, ha, ha!" 
 said Davy, with a somewhat scornful laugh. 
 
 Quality was hurt. He gently replied that if his 
 customer refused to take credit for goodness to 
 himself, he was rather going out of his way to 
 reflect upon him as having no claim to it. 
 
 "I've naught to say about it, not I," said 
 Davy; "but 'all right' is a touch above us both, 
 I reckon, by what the parson tells poor Tom." 
 
 " A parson ? What, has he got a reverend min- 
 ister to see him ? I thought he was a Jew !" ex- 
 claimed Quality. 
 
 "Ay, so he is leastways, so he was, but he 
 seems to be in doubts now if he won't turn 
 Christian." 
 
 " I hope he will, that I do !" said Quality, 
 earnestly. 
 
 Davy looked at him as if he had something on 
 his mind that he couldn't quite bring out, but mas- 
 tering his unwillingness, he said : 
 
 " It's as new to me, if you'll believe it, what a 
 Christian is, as it is to poor Tom." 
 
 "New what a Christian is! Why, Davy, 
 I've known you to be a Ch/stian all your life ; 
 and a very very " 
 
 "Very what?" said Davy. "What sort of a
 
 254 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 Christian have you known me ? I'll tell you what 
 it is, Quality, it's not doing a good turn here and 
 there as makes a Christian, it's a whole concern 
 out and out, and I'm come to see that I'm no more 
 a Christian than I'm a Jew." 
 
 " Oh, Davy, don't say that," said Quality, ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " What matters saying it ? What's true is true, 
 whether it's said or not ; and you mind, Master 
 Fogg, it won't be what we think of ourselves, but 
 what God knows of us, as'll settle us in our places 
 at last." 
 
 " How you have got to talk !" said Quality, 
 looking at him with surprise. 
 
 " It's true, isn't it ?" said Davy. 
 
 Quality couldn't gainsay that, but he felt queer 
 in being treated as a learner by one whom he had 
 always looked on as his far-off inferior in religious 
 attainment. 
 
 "There's no going again truth, even when it 
 goes again you," added Davy, taking up his can. 
 " I wish upon times I'd never heard about it ; I 
 was a deal more satisfied, but now I can't get 
 things out of my head." 
 
 " But, Davy, you never used to be afraid of any- 
 :hing," said Quality, looking at him with surprise.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER, 255 
 
 " No, not where this could stand me," he said, 
 showing his clenched fist ; " but what's to be done 
 when one has got to tackle spirits good or bad ? I 
 tell you, Quality, I don't like the thoughts of it, 
 and the more because I don't see how to be straight 
 with it." 
 
 " My good friend, don't you know that God is 
 very merciful, and if we try our best he will for- 
 give us and take us when we die ?" 
 
 " That bridge won't carry," said Davy, emphati- 
 cally. " Parson bio wed that down in no time. 
 Poor Tom was at all sorts of dodges with him 
 good conscience, lots of good things he'd done, 
 never been a swearer, never no drinker; none of it 
 was a carrying bridge. He showed it plain enough, 
 and I believe it, and I wish I didn't, for I never 
 concerned myself about such things before, and now 
 they're in my head, whether I will or no." 
 
 " What a strange world it is !" thought Quality 
 as the words of Davy returned to his mind. " He 
 has been among the ranters, I should think ; well, 
 we can't be too religious, and I only hope he won't 
 fall back again." 
 
 Perhaps the example of Davy's charity had 
 stirred him up, but after he had entered in his book 
 the things he had in store against him, it struck
 
 256 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 him that as there was but a very little a-la-mode 
 beef left, he would make a little dish of it (not- 
 withstanding Davy's protest) by the help of some 
 water, and take it to Tommy Grant. 
 
 He could not account for the attraction he felt 
 toward this child greatly increased since he be- 
 held him go in at the gate. He was not very par- 
 tial to children, though he always treated them 
 with kindness, according to his established rule 
 that " a kind manner costs nothing ;" but he had 
 been interested in this little boy from their first 
 meeting. Such pretty manners ! such a pretty boy ! 
 such a pretty scholar ! and so good ! For Tommy 
 had more than once, when sent on an errand, had 
 little conversations with Quality, in the course of 
 which he had displayed his acquaintance with 
 Scripture, while he listened with the greatest sim- 
 plicity and reverence to the annotations and ex- 
 poundings of Mr. Fogg, whom he looked on as a 
 grave authority in such matters. 
 
 But beyond the slice of beef and a good inten- 
 tion respecting the a-la-mode, Quality had not 
 shown his regard to his admirer practically. It 
 was too late to expect customers ; he had ready a 
 present (not foolishly lavish, but satisfying to his 
 good sense while gratifying to his conscience), and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 257 
 
 he couldn't do better than take it, and give Mrs. 
 Grant a little advice about going to the house for 
 the rest of the winter. 
 
 " Certainly," he thought as he went along, " a 
 little present now and then it is right to give, and 
 I hope I shall never lose by it" (here he had some 
 trouble in keeping out Davy's views on the sub- 
 ject) ; " but I can't go on with it continually, and, 
 poor little fellow ! he would be so well attended to 
 in the workhouse. I believe, as Mr. Winks says, 
 they are well taken care of there. I don't like 
 Mr. Winks, but as Mr. Luggett says, what's the 
 good of paying for a workhouse if it isn't used ? I 
 don't like Mr. Luggett at all, but he is certainly a 
 sensible man, very ; there's no denying that !" 
 
 And here he fell into a muse on Mr. Luggett, 
 and came to the conclusion that if he, with his good 
 sense, his position, his beautiful coat and excellent 
 stockings to the number of six pairs, all new at 
 once, had but religion, he would be the most en- 
 viable man he knew. 
 
 "But that, after all, is the important thing of 
 all," he wound up with; "and I'd rather be as I 
 am with religion than be Mr. Luggett witl:?ut it. 
 
 " There he is, for instance," he thought, " still 
 drinking at the club and abusing the poor; here 
 
 17
 
 258 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 am I carrying food to them at my own cost through 
 the snowy streets ;" and a little chime of praise rang 
 through his heart at the contrast " Good Quality 
 Fogg ! Good Quality Fogg !" 
 
 "Does a Mrs. Grant lodge with you, Mrs. 
 Winks?" he asked of the woman in the pawn- 
 broker's shop in Harp Court. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Fogg; has she been ordering a hot 
 supper?" she demanded. 
 
 " Oh no," said Quality, the sound of the chime 
 not out of his ears; "it's a little present I've 
 brought for the sick child." 
 
 " Very good of you, I'm sure," said the woman, 
 who was sorry for the widow, and would have 
 helped her if her husband had allowed it. "Winks 
 is dead set on giving her notice, and means to do 
 so the first chance, but I think she'll manage to 
 pay while she can ; and I wish she may always do 
 it, for she's a quiet sort of a woman, and does well 
 by the poor children." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear you have a feeling heart, Mrs. 
 Winks, and be sure God will reward you for your 
 good wishes," said Quality, who was always very 
 liberal with sneh promises, whether he had Scrip- 
 ture authority for them or not. 
 
 Mrs, Winks showed him the way up with an
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 259 
 
 approving smile, and in another second the widow 
 had opened the door to his gentle knock. 
 
 It was such a small room ! A turn-up bedstead 
 stood in one corner, which, when let down, must 
 have filled the greater part of it. At present it 
 was still folded, and a curtain hung across it to 
 separate it from the rest of the chamber. On a 
 chair and an empty box, making an extempore bed, 
 lay little Tommy, as close to the poor fire as he 
 could be brought. The widow and her daughters 
 were hard at work making up the jerseys in use 
 among the navvies from a huge roll of the woven 
 material. A strong smell of oil from this roll 
 filled the little room, so that, notwithstanding the 
 cold, it was necessary for a few minutes occasionally 
 to open the windows that the fresh air might be 
 brought in. One miserable candle was on the 
 table, around which the heads of mother and 
 daughters nearly met as with nervous haste they 
 plied the needles that trembled in their fingers. 
 
 " I have done, mother !" cried one voice as the 
 knock came to the door. 
 
 "And I shall soon have done, mother!" said 
 another. 
 
 " Mother, leave off, and let me take yours !" said 
 the first.
 
 260 RICHES WITHOUT WINOS. 
 
 Before Mrs. Grant could reply, the knock was 
 heard, and she went to answer it. 
 
 "I've just brought a trifle for Tommy's supper, 
 and I hope he's better," said Quality, who thought, 
 though used to a dingy abode, he had never seen 
 one so gloomy. 
 
 The widow's face bore the impress of want, care 
 and labour ; these, not age, had whitened her hair 
 and dimmed her eyes. She thanked her visitor 
 very gratefully, and proceeded to empty the mea- 
 sure into a basin. 
 
 "Is it Mr. Fogg, mother? is it Mr. Fogg?" 
 cried Tommy, starting up. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, I've brought you some beautiful 
 a-la-mode, and I hope you'll enjoy it. It's enough 
 for twice, I should say," said Quality, who, though 
 his heart was touched by the earnest question 
 of his little friend, did not altogether lose sight of 
 prudence. 
 
 " I'm so glad, Mr. Fogg! Mr. Fogg, couldn't 
 you stay and read to me and explain a little?" 
 cried the child as he stroked Quality's hand with 
 his thin, feverish fingers. 
 
 " Not to-night, my dear; it's late you see, and 
 I've got plenty to do, only I wanted to see how you 
 got on."
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 261 
 
 His mother stood by with the empty measure in 
 her hand. 
 
 "He doesn't mean to be unreasonable, Mr. 
 Fogg," she said, " but he is so fond of being read 
 to, and we have no time to read nor even to speak 
 to him, poor fellow ! It's as much as we can do to 
 get what is needful for him, work is so ill paid 
 for." 
 
 "Ah, a poor business indeed, I'm afraid, ma'am," 
 said Quality, politely, " and the smell of the oil 
 must be very bad for the child. I should think 
 don't you think he'd be better off " 
 
 " In the infirmary ?" said the widow, quickly ; 
 "yes, sometimes I think so, and I mean to try and 
 get a ticket if he doesn't get better soon. I tell 
 him he will have the chaplain to read to him 
 there." 
 
 A look of anguish passed over her face as Tom- 
 my's eyes sought hers, and he uttered a faint " Oh, 
 mother !" 
 
 Quality was strangely moved ; he couldn't say a 
 word about the workhouse. 
 
 " God will help us, Tommy ; think of the blessed 
 kingdom where we shall meet to part no more," 
 said the widow, resolutely checking her tears. 
 " That always makes you happy."
 
 262 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 "Ah, but I want Mr. Fogg to tell me some- 
 thing," said Tommy, wistfully. 
 
 " What is it, my dear ?" said Quality, kneeling 
 close by his side, while the widow went back to her 
 work. 
 
 "I want you to tell me about the third of John 
 about being born again. What does it mean?" 
 whispered Tommy, nervously. 
 
 "Born again, my dear!" said Quality; "well, 
 it means it means being good, you know." 
 
 "Does it?" said Tommy, with a disappointed 
 look. 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; I can't stop now, but I'll come 
 again and tell you more about it another time," 
 said Quality. 
 
 "But am I born again?" asked the child, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Ahem ! I hope so ; I hope we shall all get to 
 heaven, I do indeed, Tommy." 
 
 He had some difficulty in getting away from the 
 trembling child, who seemed anything but com- 
 forted by his vague assurances. 
 
 " I suppose he means is he ' all right,' poor in- 
 nocent little fellow ! Well, Davy wouldn't have 
 any doubts about him, I should think !" 
 
 Tommy's wan little face, his earnest, trembling
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 263 
 
 voice, and, above all, his question, did not leave 
 Quality that night nor the day after, and he felt 
 he should be glad when it was Sunday again, for 
 he made up his mind to read the third of John 
 and consider it well, and go and see Tommy before 
 evening service and set his mind at rest. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " NEARLY twelve o'clock ! How the time runs 
 on !" exclaimed Quality as he worked away at his 
 ledger on the Saturday night before the Sunday 
 on which he meant to satisfy Tommy Grant's scru- 
 ples. "Well, I must finish; I have only these 
 three little accounts to make out, and then I've 
 done. I shall have finished by twelve." 
 
 Now, down deep in his heart he knew perfectly 
 well that he could not finish by twelve; but he 
 chose to say so to quiet his surface conscience, and 
 took care not to look at the clock again till he had 
 folded his last bill and closed his ledger for that 
 year. Then he looked, and how shocked and sur- 
 prised he was to find that he had been at work a 
 good hour of Sunday morning ! " In for a penny, 
 in for a pound." Having transgressed the law so 
 far, he thought there was no use now in being par-
 
 264 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 ticular, so lie spent another half hour in prepara- 
 tions for Monday morning before he went to bed. 
 
 "What a mercy is a day of rest!" he thought 
 Avhen he first opened his eyes the next morning 
 and recollected it was Sunday, and then turned 
 round to take another long sleep. 
 
 " It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up 
 late, to eat the bread of sorrows : for so he giveth 
 his beloved sleep," God says by the Psalmist. 
 Quality knew nothing of rest. He ate the bread 
 of carefulness, he laboured hard, his ledger was his 
 Bible, his shop was his sanctuary, the world was 
 his home, its god was his god. But all this he 
 was ignorant of; and being accustomed to take 
 credit to himself on very slight grounds, he really 
 believed that he rejoiced as a Christian should for 
 a Sabbath of rest to the soul, when he composed 
 himself to more sleep on account of it. It is con- 
 fessed on all hands that nothing is more deceiving 
 than the love of money, and it is a question which 
 many will answer in the affirmative, if getting 
 money is not often more attractive to the heart 
 than the money when got? Quality was a type 
 of this class. He had no pleasure in the money 
 that was hoarded up in the bank for he had his 
 hundreds there he had no pleasure in spending;
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 2G5 
 
 his early habits of self-denial and extreme frugality 
 had never left him ; therefore the mere fact of 
 money was of little use to him, but he grew more 
 keenly fond of getting it day by day. The sound 
 of the pennies tinkling into the till as his pies 
 went quickly off on a Saturday night was musical 
 in his ears, and the satisfaction of a shilling's extra 
 gain on an investment of any kind warmed his 
 heart. Such things he enjoyed fairly enjoyed 
 while the money in the bank was a standing fact 
 that did not affect his daily comfort or pleasure. 
 
 If you had asked him why he saved or why he 
 worked, since he had no family obligations to do 
 either, he could not have told you. Perhaps, if 
 ever he asked himself, he might answer that it was 
 to get out of the reach of Mr. Luggett to undo 
 him was beyond his hopes to be able to retire 
 from business ; but these reasons would have been 
 fallacious. He worked because he loved work, he 
 saved because he loved saving, and he got money 
 because he loved getting money, and there was 
 nothing beyond in the way of accounting for it. 
 
 He had some trouble to be in time for worship 
 on that Sunday morning; but as he never missed, 
 soon, with his books under his arm, he was to be 
 seen by his neighbours few of whom kept the
 
 266 RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 Sabbath or even professed to do it tramping 
 through the snow and sludge within a few minutes 
 of being late. His sitting up the night before had 
 made him very dull and sleepy; though his habitual 
 seriousness efface gave him the appearance of deep 
 attention, an occasional nod betrayed that he was 
 not profiting by what the preacher was saying. 
 The wise stare which he put on when, by an un- 
 usually sudden dip down of the head, he jerked 
 himself awake, would not have deceived the most 
 charitable ; but he hoped, for example's sake, that 
 nobody saw him, composed himself to listen and 
 went off into a succession of dozes till the service 
 was over. 
 
 " Shall I go and see Tommy ?" he thought when 
 he had finished his dinner. 
 
 He looked at his Bible. To be able to go and 
 see Tommy, he must be able to expound the third 
 of John, and to be able to expound it he must 
 read it. 
 
 Now, tired as he was, he could without effort 
 have turned to the most complicated page in his 
 ledger. Such an occupation would have cheated 
 him of his weariness ; but the Bible ! 
 
 He opened it at the place; he read it, and in 
 doing so, the days when he was taught the Scrip-
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 267 
 
 tures by his mother those days when a little seed 
 had taken root in his heart, but worldly cares had 
 trodden the soil down hard so that it could not 
 spring up came back to him. Where was his 
 mother? In heaven. He was as sure of that as 
 he was of the sun's being in the sky. He remem- 
 bered while he read that he had learnt this chap- 
 ter by heart; but after he had gone through it 
 for the purpose of preparing it for Tommy, he 
 knew no more about what it meant than did 
 Nicodemus. 
 
 "Certainly there are very deep things in the 
 Bible," he thought. "My poor mother read a 
 great deal ; that was the way she came to under- 
 stand it. When I have a little more leisure I'll 
 read it regularly, not only on Sundays, but every 
 day." 
 
 This resolution was a quietus to any misgivings 
 he felt concerning his ignorance; and the sun 
 comirg out, although there was a keen north-east 
 wind, he determined to pay his promised visit to 
 the pawnbroker's. 
 
 But just as he turned the key in the door, who 
 should appear from the corner house but Mr. Lug- 
 gett in his beautiful coat ! 
 
 " Fogg !" cried the great man, familiarly, " going
 
 268 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 out ? That's right it's got fine come and take a 
 turn with me." 
 
 How perplexing ! Mr. Luggett's usual manner 
 was haughty and overbearing and contemptuous. 
 If he had assailed Quality in such a tone now, he 
 would have merely bowed politely, smiled submis- 
 sively and passed on, remembering his rule never 
 to quarrel with a customer, especially a good one. 
 Nay, he would have comforted himself with the 
 reflection that he was despised for the sake of his 
 religion. He would not have been despised on 
 any account if he could have helped it, but as he 
 couldn't help it, the next best thing was to make 
 merchandise of such despising, and set it down to 
 his score against heaven. 
 
 But now Mr. Luggett was friendly, affable ; 
 called him " Fogg" in a brotherly tone not in 
 a supercilious one, but in the frank accents of 
 equality. 
 
 " Fogg, come and take a turn with me," he said. 
 
 The key had scarcely completed its round in the 
 lock before Quality had settled his course. He 
 walked forward with a smile and turned the cor- 
 ner with the lofty auctioneer. For some time the 
 weather and certain improvements Mr. Luggett 
 meant to make in that street (which belonged to
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 269 
 
 him) sufficed for conversation. With an occasional 
 pause before the fence at the border of the fields, 
 their walk was confined to pacing up and down the 
 street, for the snow, where it was unmelted, lay in 
 thick drifts around, so that mere pleasure was not 
 a sufficient inducement to pass through it. 
 
 " I shall make a good job of these houses, Fogg ; 
 don't you think I shall ?" said Mr. Luggett, after 
 he had gone through his plans concerning them. 
 
 Quality most urbanely admired everything, won- 
 dering what could have improved Mr. Luggett so 
 much since their last interview, when he got an 
 inkling of the secret. 
 
 "A pretty pass we shall have I suppose about 
 this business that's coming on," said the great man, 
 staring straight before him, while Quality looked 
 up in his face. 
 
 Finding that he could read no solution there, he 
 asked, " What business ?" 
 
 " Oh dear ! haven't you heard ?" cried Mr. Lug- 
 gett ; " this election, I mean." 
 
 " Election ! what election ?" asked Quality. 
 
 "What a quiet fellow you are, Fogg!" said the 
 auctioneer, with an affectionate smile; "you stay 
 at home in that place of yours, and never meddle 
 nor make with anybody."
 
 270 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 Quality's heart tingled ; to be praised anyhow, 
 by anybody, was pleasant, but to be so praised 
 by such a man a man that had hitherto taken de- 
 light in tormenting him was no ordinary satisfac- 
 tion. He began a speech about the calls of duty 
 being sufficient, etc., etc. 
 
 "Just so, just so," said Mr. Luggett, who didn't 
 care to listen to his little morals. " I know you 
 are a conscientious man, but that's the very kind 
 of man we want to stand forward in the right 
 cause, and I hope you won't shrink from your 
 duty, Fogg." 
 
 " I hope I shall never be found to do that, Mr. 
 Luggett," said Quality, righteously. 
 
 " No ; I said the other night when "Winks de- 
 clared that you'd be sure to vote for Golding, I'll 
 answer for it, if he's only shown where duty goes, 
 he'll go after it !" 
 
 Quality was quite fluttered ; but as Mr. Luggett 
 proceeded to enlighten him with respect to the 
 coming election, and to set before him his view of 
 the different candidates, he grew uneasy, for he 
 knew enough of the man patronized by the leading 
 members of the club to set him down without any 
 lack of charity as an infidel. 
 
 Not to be seen by all the neighbourhood walking
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 271 
 
 in a friendly way with Mr. Luggett, not to be 
 called Fogg and smiled on in that brotherly style, 
 delightful as the contrast was with the usual bit- 
 ing, bitter treatment he received, could Quality 
 for his character's sake, nay, for the sake of that 
 faith no brighter, no warmer, than a thin curl of 
 smoke, make such a sacrifice. 
 
 " Ahem ! you see, Mr. Luggett, I don't agree 
 with Mr. Bragg in opinions. I don't so much 
 mean politics as other things," he said, not ventur- 
 ing the word religion. 
 
 "Mere trifles, my dear Fogg," said the auc- 
 tioneer, avoiding the subject carefully ; " we don't 
 all think alike on everything, you know, but there 
 are points on which all sensible men meet, and this 
 is one." 
 
 They had talked so long that the bells struck 
 up for evening service, and Quality, when next 
 they came to the top of the street, stood still. 
 
 " Take another turn," said the auctioneer, 
 who hoped he was on the verge of getting his 
 promise. 
 
 " Thank you ; I must go and get a cup of tea," 
 said Quality. 
 
 " Tea ? trash ! come along with me to the Three 
 Tuns ; we've got a snug party there to-night pri-
 
 272 ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 vate, you know, all private. I'll stand treat, and 
 we'll have a right pleasant evening; come, you 
 don't often indulge in a holiday." 
 
 Now came a struggle. To Davy Bowles, or 
 even if Davy had been there to hear, there would 
 have been no difficulty in saying, " I am going to 
 public worship," but there he stood in friendly at- 
 titude, alone with unbelieving, religion-scorning 
 Mr. Luggett, and it took all his courage, all the 
 force of that thin curl of smoke, to say, " Thank 
 you, but I always go to church or chapel." 
 
 " You can miss for once," said the great man. 
 
 "I never miss," said Quality, who found the 
 second step easier than the first. 
 
 " Well, come when you've done, then," said the 
 auctioneer with some little eifort, for he was de- 
 termined to carry his point if possible. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Luggett; it's very good of 
 you to be so pressing, but I never go to the public 
 of a Sunday," said Quality, still braver as he got 
 more into the fight. 
 
 Mr. Luggett gave a grunt of ill-concealed con- 
 tempt. "At all events, Fogg, you go with us in 
 this," he cried, looking in his face with an almost 
 threatening aspect. 
 
 " Why, indeed, Mr. Luggett, I'm sorry I can't
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 273 
 
 promise to do so, but Mr. Bragg is a gentleman 
 with such different principles, as I may say." 
 
 " Remember one thing," said the auctioneer " I 
 only deal with friends, and, more than that, I've 
 been applied to for that shop of mine which I've 
 improved for an eating-house, so you will consider 
 about it ; if I let it to them I shall deal with them, 
 and so will most of the club, I believe. Every- 
 body has a right to his own opinion, you know, and 
 we are famous for sticking to ours, so please your- 
 self. Will you come? or will you promise to vote 
 for Bragg?" 
 
 Quality's knees shook, and so did his voice, as 
 he said, " I'm sure, Mr. Luggett, you wouldn't be 
 so hard upon me !" 
 
 " Don't you be sure of anything but that I will 
 keep my word," said the auctioneer. " Will you 
 promise?" 
 
 " I can't ; I'm sorry, but I can't !" said Quality. 
 
 " Then let me have my bill, and scratch my 
 name out of your ledger," said the auctioneer, 
 wrathfully, stalking away to the Three Tuns, 
 while Quality hastened home to his tea and his 
 reflections. 
 
 His shop looked dark and desolate when he en- 
 tered it, and by the bell he knew it must be late. 
 
 13
 
 274 RICHES WITHOUT WINOS. 
 
 He had had no tea, and contemptuously as Mr. 
 Luggett had spoken of tea, it was one of Quality's 
 great comforts. 
 
 He stood in a troubled, uncertain mood for a 
 minute. What should he do? go off to service 
 without his tea, or rekindle his fire, which had gone 
 out, boil his kettle, which hung cold over the de- 
 funct fire, make himself as comfortable as he could 
 in his present state of agitation, and stay at home? 
 
 He resolved at last on a compromise. He would 
 have his tea, and then go for half the service. " I 
 can get in quietly to my own place," he thought. 
 
 Accordingly, his mind full of what had passed, 
 he started, and arrived just as the minister had be- 
 gun his discourse. He made his way to his seat, 
 but found a man there before him a stout, tall 
 man, whose elbows were planted on the front of 
 the seat, while his massive head was supported by 
 his hands, his face being steadily fixed on the 
 preacher. To get him to move was his first im- 
 pulse, for Quality liked order and preferred his 
 own seat to another ; but as well might he have 
 hoped to move the pillars on which the gallery 
 rested. A little push, a little whisper, both as in- 
 effectual as waves on a rock, and he subsided, and 
 prepared to place himself as well as he could.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 275 
 
 The minister was delivering a heart-searching 
 address, to which many seemed attentively listen- 
 ing, but no one looked so wholly absorbed as the 
 intruder into Quality's seat; he did not move a 
 hair's breadth to the right or the left. 
 
 It was not likely that Quality could give much 
 attention to what was going on ; his mind was 
 wholly occupied with the events of the afternoon. 
 One minute he was ready to condemn himself for 
 interfering in the matter at all. Why didn't he say, 
 " I don't mean to vote at all" ? or he might have 
 gone so far as to promise to consider the thing. 
 After all, it was to a secular office, not a religious 
 one, they wanted to elect Mr. Bragg ; why should 
 he have stood out? he might have voted for him, 
 and kept in with Mr. Luggett and the club. 
 
 Then, even while he fretted over his precipitate 
 refusal, he reflected on his character and his con- 
 sistency. Could he ever again deliver those sen- 
 timents which he prided himself on uttering so 
 imposingly? Could he ever have the face to ex- 
 pound to a young disciple, or meet the gaze of an 
 old one, if he took part with an infidel against a 
 true believer ? No ! 
 
 So the victory was on the side of right, and he 
 had just come to the conviction that he had done
 
 276 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 right, when, the words of the preacher falling in 
 the direction of that subject, he was greatly com- 
 forted by the terms in which Christians who kept 
 the faith and confessed Christ before men were com- 
 mended and encouraged. 
 
 " I only wish Mr. Luggett could hear that !" he 
 thought; and he made comparisons between the 
 auctioneer and himself, much to the prejudice of 
 the former ; as for instance, " Mr. Luggett is a 
 persecutor I am persecuted ; Mr. Luggett is on 
 the side of infidels I am on the Lord's side ; Mr. 
 Luggett is hard to the poor I am charitable and 
 kind ; Mr. Luggett is at this moment in a public- 
 house drinking I am in the house of God. 
 "Wicked Mr. Luggett ! good Quality Fogg !" 
 
 Then, when the rewards of the righteous were 
 enlarged on, he triumphed still more. After all, 
 Mr. Luggett was but a man, and could not stand 
 against Providence, and could not hinder his being 
 rewarded. And suppose he did take away his 
 custom, and by influence that of Mr. Winks and 
 the rest of the club, should not he have plenty 
 left? The friends of Mr. Golding's party would 
 be his friends, and none the less for his having 
 suifered on account of him. The starting a new 
 eating-house was awkward certainly, but it might
 
 QUALITY FOGG 1 S OLD LEDGER. 277 
 
 not answer in spite of Mr. Luggett's patronage ; it 
 was a large neighbourhood, and could support two. 
 He thought he might have to launch out a little at 
 first, to increase the size of his pies and put a few 
 more plums into his puddings, but a quick sale 
 would pay for that. Oh yes, he felt sure he should 
 get through, and was almost ready to give a hearty 
 response to the preacher when he seemed to be at 
 the end of his sermon. 
 
 Not that he had heard what had come for some 
 time before the end, for he had been too busy gath-' 
 ering up all that was agreeable and comforting 
 throughout to do that, too busy in foiling Mr. 
 Luggett and applying to him the denunciations of 
 defeat and confusion against the wicked. 
 
 But the minister when he paused, as Quality 
 thought, from having finished, did so only to col- 
 lect all his energies for a final appeal, and he broke 
 the solemn silence, in which heart beatings might 
 almost have been heard, with words that seemed 
 spoken straight by the book of truth itself: 
 
 "'I saw the dead, small and great, stand before 
 God, and the books were opened, and another book 
 was opened, which is the book of life, and the dead 
 were judged out of those things which were writ- 
 ten in the books according to their works, and who-
 
 278 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 soever was not found written in the book of life 
 was cast into the lake of fire.' 
 
 " Is your name in that book ?" 
 
 This question ho repeated with deep seriousness 
 as he turned from side to side. Then he fixed his 
 gaze on the gallery, and seemed by his eyes to be 
 singling out Quality to answer it, who tingled 
 from head to foot. 
 
 The only conditions on which a place in that 
 book was obtainable were then briefly given 
 briefly, but so forcibly that the unclouded mind 
 of a child might have understood, but Quality's 
 mind was clouded ; he was sensible of nothing but 
 terror and misgiving. 
 
 When the congregation rose to depart, he saw 
 for the first time that his seat had been occupied 
 by Davy Bowles. 
 
 Davy did not notice him ; his attention seemed 
 more occupied by thoughts within than things 
 without. There was a stoppage at the doors ; the 
 sunshine and bright sky of the afternoon had been 
 transient, and sleet and snow were now borne by 
 the driving wind with violence along the street. 
 Quality pulled up his collar and put his hands in 
 his pockets, and stood to watch the first chance of 
 an opening in the crowd.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 279 
 
 " Heigh ! mind the little girls !" he heard Davy 
 cry, not in quite such hearty tones as he indulged 
 in in his shop, but in the same cheery key, though 
 subdued in pitch. 
 
 "Going far?" he heard him say. "You'll be 
 blown to shivers in this wind. Here, take my 
 hand ; I'll get you through." 
 
 There was no difficulty in seeing Davy, who 
 was, like King Saul, a head and shoulders above 
 the people, and to make him more conspicuous, 
 he had taken the smaller child in his right arm, 
 while he held the other in the powerful vise of 
 the left. 
 
 " We'll get through, never fear, we'll get 
 through," he cried more than once, though he 
 couldn't understand, any more than could Quality 
 behind him, what made the crowd increasingly 
 pi-ess upon them, pushing them back almost into 
 the body of the building. 
 
 " This isn't the place to be uncivil in, or else I'd 
 see the meaning of all this pushing and shoving," 
 said Davy. 
 
 He had hardly spoken, when first mutterings, 
 then cries of " Fire !" were heard. 
 
 "Fire! where?" exclaimed voices on all sides. 
 
 Various answers were given, confused and con-
 
 280 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 tradictory, but from the direction of the rush i. 
 seemed to be between the chapel and Swan lane. 
 
 Quality Fogg now pressed anxiously forward. 
 " Davy, Davy Bowles, there's a good fellow, give 
 me a help, will you ?" he cried. " I'm so glad to 
 see you here ! What an awful sermon we've had ! 
 Where's the fire? Just give me a hand, will 
 you?" 
 
 "Haven't got a hand to spare, Master Fogg; 
 but if you'll just step back again and take care of 
 these till I can see to 'em, I'll go and find out 
 where the fire is, and lend a hand there and come 
 back to you." 
 
 So saying, he thrust aside the crowd, deposited 
 the little girls by Quality, and in another second 
 had vanished, disposing with as little difficulty as 
 ceremony of the mass around. 
 
 " Why, it's you, my dear !" cried Quality, look- 
 ing at one of the frightened children ; " who'd have 
 thought of seeing you here at night without your 
 mother?" 
 
 " Mother couldn't leave Tommy," answered the 
 child. 
 
 "And how is Tommy?" said Quality, seating 
 himself with them by the stove. 
 
 The child said he had been better for the a-la-
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 281 
 
 mode beef, and her mother thought if he could 
 have it for a long time he would get well. Quality 
 thought Mrs. Grant was probably right, and he 
 was sorry that a meal of it, or even two meals, or 
 even three meals, would not effect a cure ; if such 
 had been the case, he would have spared it to him, 
 but to keep him in it a long time was not to be 
 thought of, so he changed the subject, and finding 
 that the door was clear and the crowd had passed 
 on, he said they must be going. 
 
 The sleet was driving with unabated fury ; the 
 children were very poorly clad, and Quality was at 
 a loss how to dispose of them. He was afraid of 
 letting them loose at the doors lest Davy should 
 reproach him, well knowing that he would have 
 carried them home and put them safe under shelter. 
 
 " But then, look at him and me ! why, I could 
 no more carry them than they could carry me!" 
 he thought. 
 
 He was puzzled and vexed ; he heartily wished 
 he had not applied to Davy for help; if he had 
 kept his own counsel, he would have saved himself 
 this encumbrance. And he wanted to know about 
 the fire, too, dreadfully; how could he tell but 
 what it was in Swan lane? But fretting was of 
 no use.
 
 282 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 So, sheltering the children as well as he could, 
 he walked off, struck as he left the chapel with the 
 crimson glow of the sky. 
 
 " It must be very near," he remarked, nervously. 
 " Make haste, my dears, get on ; I do believe it's 
 in Swan lane. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING all his haste, Quality was a 
 long time a very long time it seemed to him be- 
 fore he could deposit his charge at the pawnbro- 
 ker's door, for the storm and the wind were against 
 them, and the streets were slippery, and the rush of 
 people hastening to the fire was great people not 
 too ceremonious in their manner at any time, and 
 so rough now when attracted by sight-seeing that 
 the children had hard work to keep their hold of 
 their guide. 
 
 " Where is the fire ?" he asked of several ; but 
 the wind overpowered all other sounds, and he got 
 no answer. 
 
 "Good-night, my dears; tell Tommy he shall 
 have a little more a-la-mode soup, and I hope he 
 will get better," he said as he parted with them, 
 Btorm and wind and the peril of fire to his shop
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 283 
 
 not being sufficient to make him forget his man- 
 ners. 
 
 Now he slipped on as fast as he could, the ruddy 
 flames now and then lighting the way with terrible 
 brilliancy. In ordinary circumstances he would 
 speedily have been at his door, but the crush of 
 people seemed to increase, and being small and not 
 very strong, he was nearly knocked over several 
 times and forced to stand up against a wall or in a 
 doorway to give place to others. But at last he 
 was carried on by the crowd round the corner into 
 Swan lane, and brought face to face with the truth. 
 The roof of the Three Tuns had fallen in, and the 
 fire was raging furiously among the neighbouring 
 houses. 
 
 " Oh what a mercy the wind blows that way !" 
 he cried, though he expected every moment to tw 
 suffocated by the pressure of the crowd and the 
 heat of the fire. 
 
 At last a movement from the scene of the dis- 
 aster, caused by the carrying of a litter, made the 
 crowd separate a little, and to his great delight, 
 Quality was by this means carried over close to 
 his own shop. 
 
 As soon as he could manage it, he got the key 
 out of his pocket and let himself in, and shutting
 
 284 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 and barring the door behind him, sat down to re- 
 cover a little from his terror and fatigue. 
 
 "Oh dear!" he exclaimed as he sat fanning 
 himself by the counter, for the flames and crush- 
 ing had turned a cold winter night into the climate 
 of the dog-days " oh dear ! how true it is that 
 wickedness is sure to be punished ! Now, I dare 
 say if those people had been where I was, doing 
 their duty as I was doing mine, this fire would 
 never have happened. It's very striking, very. I 
 hope Mr. Luggett will lay it to heart. I hope it 
 will soften him a little toward me; there's nothing 
 like affliction for softening the heart. I hope 
 poor Mr. Luggett and the landlord and all of the 
 others will learn to say, ( It is good to be afflict- 
 ed.' They must all have been frightened if not 
 burnt." 
 
 Having pursued these meditations till he felt a 
 little recovered, he got up and struck a light to 
 examine whether the heat had in any way affected 
 his goods. No ; all was safe, and as, by the noise, 
 the crowd was evidently going lower down the 
 street, he concluded that the fire was continuing to 
 destroy in that direction. 
 
 He had seen Davy Bowles frequently, while he 
 himself was fixed in the mass like a cork in a bot-
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 285 
 
 tie, moving rapidly from place to place ; his height 
 made him conspicuous everywhere. 
 
 " Poor Davy !" he thought ; " he never minds 
 danger. But then he's so strong ; I would go out 
 and help if I had a frame like his, that I would ; 
 but I think, as it is, as I can be of no use to any 
 one, I'll go to bed, for there'll be plenty of business 
 to-morrow." 
 
 The feeling which he would not have confessed 
 to of its being an ill wind that blows nobody any 
 good was strong in his heart as with a complacent 
 look he arranged and counted over his stores for 
 Monday morning. When he had done, and rap- 
 idly glanced with a ready reckoner's eye over the 
 sum they would produce, he returned to his ex- 
 pression of concern for his neighbours, and pre- 
 pared to go to bed. But he had hardly got his 
 foot on the first stair when the little bell rang, and 
 the pies danced to a salute that he knew came from 
 no other hand but Davy's. 
 
 "Master Fogg, Master Fogg! come quick, let 
 us in !" cried that worthy, while the trembling 
 fingers of Quality essayed in vain to undo the bars 
 and bolts. " I wouldn't believe you could be so 
 quiet in your hole, only they saw you go in. Come, 
 be quick ! we're in a hurry !"
 
 286 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " Now don't ye, Davy, don't ye, that's a good 
 fellow! Do have a little patience! I shall never 
 get the master of it if you worrit me so," he 
 cried. 
 
 A laugh from Davy reassured him a little, for 
 part of his nervousness arose from fear lest he 
 would call him to account for going to bed so quiet 
 when all his neighbours were busy helping. 
 
 " Oh dear ! you can't all come in at once !" he 
 cried, in consternation, when, on opening the door, 
 he saw Davy with a dozen or more men behind 
 him. 
 
 " Not while you're here to fill up the shop," said 
 Davy ; " but you can go to bed and leave us to 
 help ourselves." 
 
 Quality immediately got behind the counter, and 
 the men as many as could pressed in. 
 
 Davy, looking significantly at Quality, said, 
 " You can keep count ; we'll make it good among 
 us !" and handed over whatever he could find to 
 his comrades, who, after drinking heartily of a 
 pitcher of water, which Quality had provided for 
 his morning cooking, did ample justice to his pro- 
 visions. 
 
 " Now," said Davy, " we can go to work doubles 
 again, and you can go to bed."
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 287 
 
 Quality thought there was a tone of contempt 
 in the words thus spoken to him. 
 
 " I'm sure I sha'n't sleep if I do," he said in 
 melancholy accents. 
 
 " Then you might as well stop up and give a 
 hand," said Davy. 
 
 " I ! Think of me in a crowd like this !" said 
 Quality. "I was killed almost in it when I was 
 providentially brought to my own door." 
 
 " If Providence brought you, it was as you 
 might do something; so just keep a lookout, and 
 see if there's nobody as would be better for a 
 mouthful ; you can do that, I suppose ?" said 
 Davy, hastily. 
 
 " Oh yes ; if anybody would like to come in and 
 sit here for a bit till it's got quiet, I will accom- 
 modate them, I'm sure; please tell Mr. Luggett 
 or any of the company so." 
 
 " Mr. Luggett," said Davy, going out with his 
 followers ; " Mr. Luggett's gone to better quarters, 
 poor fellow !" 
 
 " Gone to better quarters !" said Quality ; " what 
 does he mean ? Surely he's not dead, for though 
 God is very merciful yet " and he called to 
 mind the denunciations of the sermon, all of which 
 he had liberally laid on the head of the auctioneer.
 
 288 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " He had no time for repentance ! To be cut off 
 in his wickedness was so shocking ! Davy couldn't 
 mean by better quarters, heaven ; but then he said 
 poor fellow; so I should think he must be killed. 
 Davy is very ignorant, although he has got a great 
 deal more religious lately. Poor Mr. Luggett ! 
 I'm very sorry for him, very sorry; it's right to 
 pity our enemies, and I do pity him, poor man. 
 Well, I shall lose nothing by my conscientious 
 stand out about Mr. Golding. I wonder whether 
 that little shop will be let for an eating-house now 
 he's gone ? It depends on who comes into his prop- 
 erty. He's left a deal behind him !" 
 
 And with the houses and money invested which 
 had made the auctioneer so great a man came into 
 Quality's mind the beautiful coat and six excellent 
 pairs of ribbed woolen stockings. " Well, we must 
 all go sooner or later ; he was a tall stout man, 
 they would not fit me, or else as he has no one 
 that cares about him to come after him if there's 
 a sale " 
 
 Such were some of the thoughts that crowded 
 into his mind as he set his shop in order, having 
 first put down the amount of goods disposed of by 
 Davy and his men. 
 
 So little was left for the next day's demands that
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 289 
 
 Quality, seeing it was incumbent on him to sit up, 
 after Davy's rebuke, in case other applicants should 
 come, thought it would be better certainly not 
 wrong to make a fresh batch of pies and a kettle 
 of a-la-mode. So he lit his fire and went to work, 
 happy to hear that the din in the street was grow- 
 ing more and more remote. 
 
 The nights were at the longest, and after he had 
 filled his tins all ready for the baker's earliest oven, 
 and got his a-la-mode simmering delightfully, so 
 that it would be all right for customers, he found 
 he had an hour or two left before ordinary getting- 
 up time. He would have gone to bed, but he was 
 afraid of Davy ; he felt his reputation was at stake 
 if he took his ease in a time of such general trouble 
 and was discovered. 
 
 So, that he might not fall asleep in his chair and 
 thus endanger starting another fire, he thought he 
 would read. He took his Bible; he tried to re- 
 member the text, he tried to find the verses which 
 had produced such a thrilling effect on the congre- 
 gation, but he could not remember where they 
 were. He tried to read the third of John, but he 
 was sure if he kept at the Bible much longer he 
 should fall asleep, so he put it down ; and suddenly 
 recollecting that it was Monday morning, he got 
 
 19
 
 290 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 out his ledger, not to work at it, but to look it 
 over, and he was wide awake immediately. 
 
 He turned to Mr. Luggett's account; it was a 
 heavy one. Poor Mr. Luggett! how little he 
 thought when he said his name was to be crossed 
 out that it would be so by necessity ! It was a 
 heavy bill, very heavy. To offend such a customer 
 must have required great strength of conscience. 
 Quality grew prouder and prouder of himself as he 
 thought of it ; and when he reflected that the suc- 
 ceeding auctioneer would, it was most likely, deal 
 with him, knowing nothing of the difference be- 
 tween them, he could not but confess very softly, 
 in the middle of his heart that shocking as it 
 was, and much as he was bound to lament the 
 untimely fate of Mr. Luggett, yet, taken in a busi- 
 ness point of view, it was rather an advantageous 
 arrangement for him. 
 
 It struck him that if the fire had come in his 
 direction it would have ruined him quite; for not 
 only would his goods have gone, but his ledger 
 which contained the claims of the last year, and in 
 some cases of years previous, on his customers 
 would have perished. 
 
 "This table," he thought as he replaced the 
 ledger in the drawer, " is as old and dry as tinder ;
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 291 
 
 I must get a safety-box to keep it in. Let me see ; 
 there's the zinc safe, where I keep my meat. I'll 
 always have it there of nights ; that lock is as good 
 as this." 
 
 Very drowsy was he throughout the next day ; 
 business kept him alive and awake, but between 
 the visits of customers he had many a doze. He 
 was surprised that Davy didn't look in upon him ; 
 he meant to tell him how he had sat up all night, 
 to be ready for the call of duty, but he did not 
 make his appearance. He got very confused in- 
 formation from all sources. No one seemed to 
 know what had happened to any one. Several 
 had been taken to the hospital ; some said that 
 Mr. Luggett and the landlord of the Three Tuns 
 were dead, others that they were not. 
 
 " I wish Davy would come," thought Quality 
 several times; "but he will be here to-night. I 
 suppose he'll see to those fellows paying for what 
 they had. It's a serious concern, feeding a dozen 
 hungry men for nothing. But Davy is very hon- 
 est; he won't see me imposed upon. Of course 
 the people they worked for to save them from the 
 fire must pay. Well, I've got the account. I'll 
 slip it into the ledger when I put it into the safe 
 to-night. One can't be too careful."
 
 292 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 What a strange, weary day it was ! Notwith- 
 standing the chink, chink, chink, so continual in 
 the till, very glad was he when closing-time came 
 and all fear of interruption, even from Davy, was 
 over. 
 
 He went out first to see how things looked. 
 Very dismal indeed they were ; a scaffolding had 
 been hastily raised before the ruins of the Three 
 Tuns and the adjacent houses, and policemen were 
 there to keep off thieves. 
 
 "Is it quite out?" inquired Quality of one near 
 him. 
 
 " No, but it's next to it. The fall of the wind 
 has helped it," said the man. 
 
 "It's beginning to rise again," said Quality, 
 drawing his coat up to his ears. 
 
 " Yes, but it seems to have changed in this last 
 hour," said the policeman. 
 
 Quality was soon in bed and fast asleep. Not a 
 thought or a fancy of any kind disturbed his heavy 
 slumber for hours ; but when he woke he started 
 up, believing he was at the bakehouse putting in 
 his pies. Certainly it was hot, very hot. And 
 what was that crack and the light that licked the 
 window? Was the house on fire? He jumped 
 up, scrambled on his clothes, growing more and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 293 
 
 more sure that the change of the wind had brought 
 destruction to him. 
 
 Whether from his being so drowsy he had 
 dropped a spark among his very fire-feeding goods, 
 or whether the wind, now as strong from the west 
 as it had been from the east, had blown across 
 some portion of the burning mass, which settling 
 on his thatched roof had set it on fire, could not be 
 known ; but now it was with extreme difficulty 
 Quality escaped ; how, he knew not. 
 
 Again he was one in the crowd, which collected 
 once more with magic rapidity, but not now to 
 watch the ravages of the flames on the property of 
 others ; no, his shop seemed singled out as yet for 
 their fury. In a strange stupor, unable to com- 
 prehend the whole, he beheld the water playing on 
 the quickly prostrate ruins. As he was pushed he 
 went, still gazing as if in a dream at the scene be- 
 fore him. 
 
 Davy was not there, but he did not miss him. 
 He missed nothing, understood nothing. The roof 
 fell ; the heavy old eyebrow-like window-ledge fell ; 
 all fell, and the flames, when the devastation was 
 complete, seemed satisfied. The houses on either 
 side though injured were spared only his shop 
 had been destroyed.
 
 294 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " What a mercy that the wind shifted !" cried 
 the people that lived below the Three Tuns. 
 
 Everybody was sorry for Quality ; but precisely 
 the same view that he had taken of the misfortunes 
 of others was taken of his. His neighbours could 
 hardly pity him for rejoicing in their own escape. 
 
 " He is in a fit !" cried one, seeing him sink 
 against the wall. 
 
 " He's hurt !" cried another ; " take him to the 
 hospital." 
 
 And hurt indeed he was, though hardly sensible 
 of the pain, from the stupefying effect of what he 
 had witnessed. He was placed on a litter, and as 
 he was carried along a confusion was within greater 
 even than that which was around him. He did 
 not know where he was going nor what was hap- 
 pening. He fancied he was in bed and asleep and 
 dreaming, and by the time he arrived at the hos- 
 pital he was entirely insensible. 
 
 And insensible he remained for a long time, and 
 insensibility changed to a rambling state, during 
 which he was quite unconscious of all that had 
 taken place. 
 
 He thought some one was sitting on his arm, 
 which he could not raise, for it had been much 
 burnt. He repeatedly called out to Davy to help
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 295 
 
 him. " Do, Davy, there's a good fellow ; you're 
 so strong. Davy, I say, about those pies?" he 
 would almost always add to his earnest eutreaties 
 for help. But fever was subdued, and though very 
 feeble he at last awoke from a restful sleep con- 
 scious and rational. 
 
 Poor Quality ! what a waking it was ! 
 
 " Where am I ?" he asked the nurse. 
 
 " In the hospital," she answered. 
 
 " Hospital !" he said, looking round the ward ; 
 then with a groan, as the truth loomed heavily in 
 the distance, he closed his eyes, from which the 
 tears stole over his wasted cheeks. 
 
 " You mustn't fret," said the nurse, " or you'll 
 be bad again. Here, take this." 
 
 And she administered a cordial, which he pas- 
 sively received with his natural politeness. 
 
 For some days he lay on the bed before he was 
 allowed to talk or to ask questions concerning the 
 calamity. His arm and shoulder were much in- 
 jured the surgeon had talked of amputation 
 and it was doubtful whether they would be of any 
 use to him again. 
 
 So, a cripple, his shop gone, his goods gone, all 
 gone, what was he to do ? 
 
 And he dared not ask a question, for the nurse
 
 296 RICHES WITHOUT WIN OS. 
 
 was peremptory, and though his case was a piteous 
 one, yet there were worse there. 
 
 No one had asked for him, no one had inquired 
 about him, the nurse said ; remarking, " Oh, among 
 so many as was hurt you can't expect it, and if 
 you've no family to look to you, it's not likely 
 others will interfere." 
 
 But she was mistaken he had a visitor. He 
 had been there three weeks ; the doctor had told 
 him that all the remainder of his property, such 
 trifles as the flames had spared, would be protected 
 from pillage by the police. He was trying to 
 harden himself to bear all that was thus laid upon 
 him when he heard a child's voice. Little Tommy 
 Grant had valiantly fought his way to his bedside. 
 . "Tommy !" he cried, overcome with joy at see- 
 ing some one who felt for him. 
 
 " I am so sorry for you, Mr. Fogg !" said the 
 child. " I am better, a great deal better. Mother 
 says that stewed beef you brought me made quite a 
 turn in my illness, and I've been getting better 
 ever since, and my uncle has come to us, and we've 
 moved from Harp court to a better place, and 
 we're very comfortable. We found out that you 
 had been brought here, and as soon as I might 
 come out mother let me come here to see you, but
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 297 
 
 I tried ever so hard before they'd give me leave to 
 come up." 
 
 Quality cried with delight as the child fondled 
 him and assured him he would soon be better. 
 
 " AVe pray for you every day, Mr. Fogg ; mother 
 does, and we all do together, and I do myself, 
 and I'm sure you'll get well," said the child 
 earnestly. 
 
 Quality felt the first ray of comfort and hope as 
 the glistening eyes of the still delicate-looking 
 child fixed themselves fondly on him. 
 
 " Mother would have come to see you, but she 
 has been so busy, and so have they all been busy. 
 I am not able to do anything, you see, so I begged 
 to come and see you. My uncle says that very 
 soon they will not have to work hard and then 
 I shall go to school ; aren't you glad of that, dear 
 Mr. Fogg?" 
 
 Poor Quality could not feel glad about anything 
 just then; he was indeed pleased to hear that 
 others were happier, but his own troubles pressed 
 so heavily on his heart that he could not rise to joy 
 of any kind. 
 
 " But you will soon be up and come from this 
 place, Mr. Fogg; and then wherever we live, I 
 will come and see you," said Tommy, who saw the
 
 298 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 anguish of his friend with tender concern, but 
 knew not how to soothe it. 
 
 " I shall have no home perhaps, my dear," said 
 Quality, in deep dejection ; " my property is all 
 destroyed, and I cannot get anybody to inquire 
 about it; they tell me there's nothing saved 
 nothing; and you see, my dear, I'm a poor cripple 
 now, so what little money I have saved will be all 
 I shall have to live upon. I shall never make any 
 more never !" 
 
 Tommy did what he could to console him ; he 
 kissed his forehead, and stroked his hand, and tried 
 to smile hopefully, but the tears were in his eyes. 
 " Mr. Fogg, dear," he said as he brushed them 
 away, " my uncle gave me sixpence, and I bought 
 you a beautiful slice of plum-pudding, like what 
 you gave Bessie that night. I thought you might 
 be glad of it, but the porter took it from me. 
 Wasn't that very ill natured of him?" 
 
 " It's quite right, my dear, he was only doing his 
 duty; you know we must always do our duty," 
 said Quality, forgetting for the moment his sorrow 
 and his pain in the sympathy of his little friend, 
 and falling into his old way of teaching. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Fogg, that's always the way you 
 talk !" said Tommy, with great simplicity ; " and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 299 
 
 I know something by that something so good to 
 know !" 
 
 His eyes grew brighter as he spoke, and he nod- 
 ded very significantly at the patient, as much as to 
 say, " Shall I tell you what it is ?" 
 
 " What is it, Tommy ? I'm sure I shall be glad 
 of any good news now," said Quality, sighing. 
 
 " Why why you are born again ; you are, de- 
 pend upon it, dear Mr. Fogg ! Uncle has been 
 telling me all about the meaning of the third of 
 John, and I think I understand it ; and one of the 
 ways to know if you are born again is talking as 
 you talk," said Tommy, in an earnest whisper. 
 
 " Ah, my dear," said Quality, peevishly, " talk- 
 ing isn't everything." 
 
 " I know it ; uncle says doing is the thing ; but 
 then you are so good, Mr. Fogg you have been 
 always good ! Didn't you give me that stuff that 
 mother always says was the beginning of my get- 
 ting better? and you came to see me; and you 
 always taught me something when I went to your 
 shop." 
 
 " Oh, my dear !" said Quality, the tears coming 
 thick into his eyes, " don't talk of my goodness. I 
 haven't got any goodness !" And the thought of 
 his condition pressed heavily on his heart.
 
 300 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 Tommy found that the more he tried to convince 
 his friend of his happy condition, the more uneasy 
 lie seemed to grow ; and he stood, looking pained 
 and perplexed, by the bedside in silence. 
 
 "Who is your uncle, my dear?" asked Quality, 
 after a pause, willing to change the subject. 
 
 "He is my father's brother, just come from 
 abroad, and he is very good ; he is going to help 
 my mother more and more, he says. Shall I ask 
 him to come and see you, Mr. Fogg, dear ?" 
 
 " Oh, don't trouble him," said Quality, sadly. 
 
 " It won't trouble him ; I shall tell him all 
 about you, and I know he will come and see you," 
 said the child, earnestly. 
 
 There was a very tender parting between the two 
 friends; and when Tommy had left him, Quality 
 was engrossed by thoughts new and strange. 
 
 Tommy had drawn just the picture of him that 
 he had once drawn of himself a pattern of pro- 
 priety, unblemished in name, and so kind ! But 
 in those weeks of suffering he had been taught 
 new things; he had come to the conviction that 
 his religion was a sham, and that he was not only 
 deficient in good works, but exceeded abundantly 
 in bad ones. " Pride, vain-glory and hypocrisy," 
 he now saw stamped on the best of his good deeds,
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 301 
 
 and, alas ! envy and much uncharitableness stood 
 as witnesses against him, to the confusion of his 
 conscience. 
 
 It was hard to lose both worlds at once, and he 
 seemed to have done so, for all his savings would 
 hardly purchase an annuity that would place him 
 above want; and as to the shop, with that had 
 perished every evidence of claim on his creditors. 
 The old ledger must have been consumed, though 
 in the safe not a vestige of it had been discovered. 
 So instead of the busy life he had led in that snug 
 little hive where he had gathered his pence with 
 such satisfaction, hoping to come out at last " Mr. 
 Fogg retired from business/' or, like Mr. Luggett, 
 to follow it only for diversion, he must be content 
 with doing nothing and being nobody to the end ! 
 This was bad enough ; but what if, in addition to 
 this, his name was not found written in that book 
 of life, or he was not " born again," and so had no 
 hope of the world to come ! While he felt sure 
 of this world he was content to leave the prospect 
 of the next in the mists of uncertainty, but now 
 that this had vanished the case was altered the 
 truth of himself came vividly before him. In- 
 stead of being encouraged to hope for those good 
 things in heaven which, in his prosperity, had made
 
 302 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 a very pretty undefined background to the things 
 lie had in possession, he began now to despair of 
 being forgiven; and Tommy's efforts to comfort 
 him had placed the top-stone on his fears. " I 
 born again ! no, I'm not. I don't know it ; but 
 I know this that Davy told the truth, though he 
 offended me at the time, when he said it took more 
 than a good turn now and then to make a 
 Christian." 
 
 And Davy's parting words : " I all right ! you 
 all right !" sounded in his ears frequently through 
 the tedious hours of that weary night with the 
 chilling effect of a passing bell. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SPRING was coming, and it was an early spring. 
 There was a broad terrace before the back of the 
 hospital, around which lay pleasant gardens in 
 which the convalescent patients had liberty to walk. 
 These were gay with the crocus and other early 
 flowers, while the sward wore a bright, refreshing 
 green. 
 
 Quality was sitting for a few minutes on a seat 
 in the sunshine to regain his breath, for he had 
 been sadly weakened by pain and long confinement.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 303 
 
 He was very pale, very thin, and one arm was in 
 a sling, while a crutch was under the other. He 
 looked pensively around him ; children, old men, 
 men and women in the prime of life, were there. 
 He sat alone ; he never was in spirits to converse 
 with any one. He was ashamed now to talk in his 
 old strain ; he felt as if he had no right to do it. 
 He had not received another visit from Tommy; 
 he had not seen his uncle. No one had been to see 
 him. He felt very deserted, but he was not angry ; 
 he was resigned to all. 
 
 From the terrace the great cemetery grounds 
 were visible. He looked toward them ; the large 
 monuments stood out in some distinctness ; he had 
 occasionally walked through them, and remem- 
 bered them well. A slight shudder crept over him 
 as he thought that he must soon lie there, even if 
 he survived a few lingering, painful years. Once 
 he had contemplated having a good-looking tomb 
 raised over him, when the time should come that 
 he must die, with satisfaction, but now he felt: 
 " Oh, if I could only get to heaven, a green sod 
 or a brown clod would be enough, without a stone 
 of any kind! What a folly it is to mind such 
 things!" 
 
 "Why, Master Fogg! caught you at last!"
 
 304 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 cried a familiar voice, breaking in on his medi- 
 tations. 
 
 Quality almost expected to hear the bell ring 
 and see the little pies dance as Davy Bowles 
 clapped his great hands together with one of his 
 hearty salutes. 
 
 " Oh, Davy, I'm so glad to see you !" he cried, 
 trembling " so very glad ! I was afraid you had 
 been killed that night, for I was sure you'd have 
 come to see me if you'd been alive anyways near." 
 
 "But I haven't been near, noways," replied 
 Davy. "I've been off these weeks and weeks. I 
 was took off that very Monday morning, almost 
 afore I'd got some breath back and the taste of 
 your pies was out of my mouth, to the accidents 
 on the line. Three bad goes there was, and I was 
 sent from one to another, and got farther a-field 
 every one. I began to think I should never get 
 back to my old quarters." 
 
 " I knew quite well there must be a something, 
 Davy. I was sure if you hadn't been killed you'd 
 never have forgotten me so out and out." 
 
 " Oh no, I wasn't killed ; but 'seems to mo 
 you've been a'most smashed. Why, how came it 
 about ? You was in a whole skin when I left you, 
 and the fire was well under afore we went off. I
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 305 
 
 never heard of the second flare-up, not a word, 
 till I came back yesterday." 
 
 Quality told him all the story as briefly as he 
 could. 
 
 " Poor little chap !" cried Davy in tones of the 
 kindest commiseration. "Well, there's not much 
 of you left ; it won't take a deal to keep you. Any- 
 how, you'll never want ; be sure of that.' 
 
 "No, Davy, I'm not afraid of wanting. I've 
 got a trifle saved, you know, and I must live upon 
 that." 
 
 "Very good; and when you grow stout and 
 come short, we'll help you that's the way," said 
 Davy. 
 
 "We?" asked Quality. 
 
 " Friends anybody everybody," said Davy. 
 
 " Ah, Davy, it's only kind hearts people that 
 have got real Christian love in them that I can 
 hope to find friendly now," said Quality. 
 
 " Wouldn't give a toss for any other," said Davy, 
 carelessly. "But look here; I've got the brads 
 we owe you for that night's supper. Some of the 
 fellows, hearing what had happened to you, made 
 up a bag, and here it is. I went round to 'em 
 last night, and I've been all to-day finding out 
 
 where they'd stowed you." 
 20
 
 306 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 So saying, he produced a canvas bag containing 
 the offerings of his brother navvies and his own. 
 
 " Oh, dear Davy, that is very good of you very 
 good indeed !" said Quality, quite broken down 
 by the hearty kindness of his friend, " but I can't 
 take it, for those you worked for ought to pay, 
 I'm sure ; and I can't prove any debt now. My 
 books are all burnt even my old ledger." 
 
 " No ! What, the old parchment chap that I've 
 so often caught you spelling over ? He's gone, is 
 lie ? Well, that's a pity, after all the pains you 
 took to flourish him up !" said Davy. 
 
 But the recollection of his loss thus brought up 
 prevented Quality's answering. 
 
 "As to this," said Davy, laying the bag in his 
 hand, " it's your'n, and if they pay us again which 
 I hope they will you shall have that too. I don't 
 see things so glum as you do. When you've got 
 on a bit and turn out of this place, you may set 
 up shop again, and you're sure to get lots of cus- 
 tomers." 
 
 " Davy," said Quality, " do you remember tell- 
 ing me I wasn't right wasn't a Christian, you 
 meant?" 
 
 "No; did I?" said Davy, staring. 
 
 u Yes, you did. Do you know why ?"
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 307 
 
 "Most like, if I did, because I thought so," said 
 Davy. 
 
 " You did, and you thought right. Davy, if 
 you'll believe me, I've been a very wicked man I 
 have indeed," said Quality, earnestly. 
 
 " You needn't be so partickler positive about it ; 
 I'll believe you quite easy," said Davy. 
 
 " But not so much what you know of me. My 
 heart, Davy, my heart;" and Quality laid his 
 whole arm across his breast. 
 
 " D'ye know what the parson told me up yonder 
 where I've been working ?" said Davy. 
 
 Quality looked attentively at him. 
 
 " Why, I began to get very queer, and to see no 
 way, do what I would, to make a good conscience, 
 as you used to talk about, nor to get to heaven 
 without one. I got a bit of understanding from 
 that sermon the night you was burnt out, but not 
 enough to carry me on ; so, being fixed to have my 
 mind settled, I went to the parson up yonder where 
 I've been. He was just such another as him that 
 I fetched to poor Tom, and he went on a long time 
 like a book, and I know'd it was all very good, 
 but somehow I couldn't take it in. So I said a 
 little about being afraid of my sins, and how I'd 
 done so little worth calling good ; and he stood up
 
 308 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 and he said, ' Friend, I have done with my bad 
 deeds, and I don't stand on my good deeds. Christ 
 has died, and that's my salvation !' Why, if you'll 
 believe me, Master Fogg, the thing came as clear 
 as daylight at a tunnel's end. I took it without 
 another hum and ha ; and since then I've seen that 
 to try to be your own saviour, as he said, is just 
 the same as to build a house without a foundation 
 or an arch without a keystone." 
 
 Quality looked greatly relieved. 
 
 " I do believe by your face you've took it in, 
 just as I did," said Davy. 
 
 " I have ! I think I see it !" said Quality. 
 " Saviour, yes. It isn't our works not our mer- 
 its ; no, a Saviour !" 
 
 "Similar like to a man falling into the water and 
 being pulled out ; that were how he put it. Clear, 
 warn't it ?" said Davy. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Quality, upon whose mind the 
 instructions of the chaplain in the ward during his 
 confinement then returned with a meaning he had 
 never attached to them. 
 
 " Christ died, the Just for the unjust, that he 
 might bring us to God. 
 
 " God so loved the world that he gave his only 
 begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 309 
 
 should not perish, but have everlasting life," he 
 slowly repeated, as if to assure himself of the 
 truth. 
 
 " Ah, that's the gospel !" said Davy, with en- 
 ergy. " You mind, Master Fogg, the gospel's the 
 only carrying bridge. I saw at once, when I took 
 in them words, 'Christ has died, and that's my 
 salvation/ the reason of poor Tom's dying so 
 happy; he believed the gospel. He used to cry 
 and vex over his sins, and say if he lived how 
 different he'd be ; but when he came to the last he 
 was as quiet as a lamb, and it rather puzzled me 
 to see him making so sure, being as he'd been a 
 Jew all his life ; while I, who hadn't been a Jew, 
 though I hadn't been a Christian worth speaking 
 of, went a-m oping and fearing, and daren't for my 
 life believe I was safe. But then I saw it all plain ; 
 he believed the gospel, and I didn't that was the 
 difference between us." 
 
 "But then, Davy," said Quality, "it's so easy 
 to say you believe." 
 
 " Ay, s'pose it is !" said Davy. 
 
 "But it isn't easy, I think, to do it." 
 
 " No, s'pose it isn't," said Davy ; " not for you 
 and me ; but directly I took in that believing the 
 gospel was everything everything, Master Fogg
 
 310 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 I told the parson straight I wished I believed, for 
 I was afeared I didii't, and with that he showed 
 me this place as I've kept my mark upon ever 
 since." As he spoke he drew a small Bible, and 
 opening it, pointed to "Ask and ye shall receive; 
 seek and ye shall find." 
 
 " Ye-e-s, that means praying," said Quality. 
 
 "That's it; and being quite sure that nothing 
 was of any good if I was to come wrong at last, I 
 took to praying, and you may take this word to 
 be as true as a line I received ; and you'll receive 
 if you ask." 
 
 " I will pray that I may believe," said Quality, 
 with a trembling voice. " Thank you, Davy, for 
 coming to me in my trouble. If I could only feel 
 quite sure of dying happy and going to heaven, I 
 shouldn't mind all I've gone through." 
 
 " That shows you're nigh the end of the cutting 
 and coming into the light," said Davy, cheerily; 
 " but you mustn't stay here too long ; it's a sharp 
 wind, though the sun shines. Come in ; I'll stop 
 with you a bit longer." 
 
 As gently as a nurse with an infant, Davy helped 
 him to rise and walk toward the house, and the 
 patients stood gazing with interest at the huge, 
 rough navvy whom they had seen with the open
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 311 
 
 Bible in his hand now supporting the tottering 
 steps and dwindled form of his sorrowful friend. 
 
 Davy made many inquiries into the circumstances 
 of the fire, and promised to find out more particu- 
 larly what state the ruins were in and what was 
 being done. 
 
 "About Mr. Luggett, Davy? He was killed, 
 wasn't he?" asked Quality. 
 
 "Can't say," said Davy; "he was bad hurt, 
 and they took him to some infirmary somewhere." 
 
 " Was that what you meant by better quarters ?" 
 inquired Quality. 
 
 "Ay, sure, if I said aught about 'em," said 
 Davy. 
 
 "I thought you meant he was gone to heaven," 
 said Quality. 
 
 "Him? old Luggett?" said Davy; "no, I 
 never took upon myself to settle anybody there, 
 and I shouldn't have begun with him," said Davy. 
 " Why, man, he was drinking at the l Tuns' when 
 the fire broke out, and wasn't sober enough to keep 
 his legs, and that was how he fell into the fire 
 getting out. Drunk of a Sunday in service-time ! 
 No, I warn'fc like to expect him to get to heaven 
 by that road, even when I know'd nothing much 
 about the matter."
 
 312 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 "And is he dead?" asked Quality. 
 
 " Don't know," said Davy ; " I never concerned 
 myself about anybody but you, and directly I found 
 out how you was fixed I got the pie money and 
 come here; and now I must go, and if you've got 
 any 'ploy for me I'll do it if I can ; I sha'n't be 
 very handy at work this day or two." 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Davy," said Quality, grate- 
 fully ; " how good you are to me !" 
 
 Davy smiled kindly on him and stood waiting 
 for commissions. 
 
 " I should be glad to know if there's any news 
 of the safe," said Quality, " and whether anything 
 is saved anything. And would you find out 
 whether Mr. Luggett is better? I hope, poor 
 man, he is not dead, I'm sure I do. I'm afraid 
 I've been very uncharitable and unfeeling in my 
 thoughts of him. Oh, Davy, I should shock you 
 if I told you of all the bad thoughts I've been 
 guilty of!" 
 
 "Very like; but there's no partickler good in 
 confessing them to me, so you might leave that be. 
 That's where to confess," he said, pointing upward. 
 
 Quality was impressed with the truth that he 
 had as yet no communion there ; he had never 
 confessed nor prayed, nor praised nor mourned, to
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 313 
 
 One who he believed could hear him or answer or 
 help him. Heaven was but an empty name to 
 him ; he had no friend there, for he did not know 
 the Lord Jesus. 
 
 "Anything more?" said Davy, seeing that his 
 friend had got into a muse. 
 
 " I should have liked to know about little Tom 
 Grant, but they've moved from Harp court, and I 
 don't know where they have gone." 
 
 "All right; I'll see if they'll answer to call," 
 said Davy ; " and now you needn't be nice about 
 spending that there's more where it comes from ; 
 wages is good, because work's none of the lightest, 
 so we're all afloat. Oh don't go to pull a face" 
 seeing that Quality was ready to cry, as if over- 
 come. " When you're on your legs again and get 
 into another shop, we'll take it out in pies; so the 
 sooner you pull on the better for us." 
 
 Everything painful and pleasant had shown 
 Quality of late things to humble him ; the visit of 
 Davy had more powerfully than ever done so. 
 This rough, uncultivated navvy, who had always 
 been looked upon by him as one to teach and 
 preach to as one that, impressed with his superior 
 wisdom and excellence, looked up to him with def- 
 erence and respect had come to him to bring
 
 314 RIC11ES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 light, to show him the depths of his ignorance and 
 unworthiness. And then his generosity, bringing 
 the wages of such hazardous work to him without 
 stint or grudge ! 
 
 " He was always a generous fellow, but I never 
 saw such kindness in him before," he said to him- 
 self as he counted out the contents of the bag. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 QUALITY at length received his dismissal from 
 the hospital, which he quitted with feelings of 
 gratitude to all the officers and attendants. The 
 chaplain had found him, soon after David's visit, 
 humble, calm, ready to receive comfort, and very 
 thankful for it. Indeed, the smile with which he 
 now silently welcomed him, and the restful look on 
 his face, instead of that anxious, agitated or woe- 
 begone and despairing aspect he had hitherto worn, 
 was striking to all. The medical men he could 
 not thank enough for their skill and care, and the 
 nurses, so often ill requited by the peevish com- 
 plaints of ungrateful patients, he tried to make 
 sensible of his gratitude by spending a good por- 
 tion of his bag in farewell gifts to them, assuring 
 them that if ever he was so happy as to get into
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 315 
 
 business again, there was not one whom he would 
 not heartily welcome to the best he had to bestow. 
 The skill and care he had been attended with had 
 restored him not only to health, but to a whole 
 frame. His injured limbs had regained their 
 power, and in a little time there seemed no reason 
 why he should not invest his capital and start 
 afresh in business. 
 
 Davy had brought him no news of little Tom. 
 Mr. Winks, the pawnbroker, where Mrs. Grant 
 had lodged in Harp court, had been grievously 
 injured by the fire, being one of the " snug party" 
 to which Mr. Luggett had invited Quality, and 
 the place was in confusion. Mrs. Winks knew no 
 more than that a respectable man had taken the 
 family away, she had no idea where. Quality 
 was afraid poor Tom must have caught cold again 
 on the day he came to see him, and was now per- 
 haps on a dying bed, if not dead. 
 
 Davy had discovered that Mr. Luggett had sur- 
 vived his injuries, but was a complete wreck to 
 look at. He had been moved from the infirmary 
 to his own house, which stood whole though some- 
 what blemished between the ruins of the Three 
 Tuns and the eating-house. Further than these 
 facts he had nothing to tell him, except, in ad-
 
 316 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 dition, that nothing had been seen of the safe, but 
 that the oak table, a beam having fallen across it, 
 had been dug out of the ruins entire. 
 
 "Oh dear! if I had but left my ledger alone 
 that morning I should have it now," thought 
 Quality, with a sigh, when he heard it. 
 
 But Davy would not hear a word of regret about 
 the safe. " Get somebody to go your rounds. All 
 the honest people will pay, and you must let the 
 rogues go. Where's the sense of throwing comfort 
 after 'em ?" 
 
 This philosophy was the more telling because 
 Quality knew Davy only recommended what he 
 would assuredly put in practice himself, and he 
 submitted and hoped the best. In the little lodg- 
 ing which he took till his strength had quite re- 
 turned and his affairs were sufficiently arranged for 
 him to think of settling again, Davy came to him 
 to cheer him up and advise with him, though it 
 must be owned his advice was not always so dis- 
 creet as to make Quality take it. But work far 
 off called Davy away. The night before he started 
 he brought a small sum, what he had spared from 
 his own pay, saying he hoped Quality would find 
 it enough to go upon till he got into business, as it 
 would be best not to meddle with the bank lot.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 317 
 
 That he might speedily get fresh intelligence, 
 Quality had taken a room close to Swan lane. It 
 was but a few minutes' walk to the ruins ; to these 
 he resorted most days, still using for caution's sake 
 a stick and a crutch. A melancholy sight it was 
 to the most resigned, enough to upset any ordinary 
 philosophy. The neighbouring houses on each side 
 of Quality's had been partially pulled down to stop 
 the progress of the fire ; a temporary barrier had 
 been raised before all to keep off intruders. Such 
 as had permission from the authorities were allowed 
 to enter, and it was Quality's mournful privilege to 
 have a right to this. Much had been cleared off, 
 but heaps still lay there, and he moved from heap 
 to heap where it was not dangerous, leaning on his 
 crutch and poking with his stick, not with much 
 hope, but with a languid, wistful thought that he 
 might turn up his safe. 
 
 He had sent an advertisement to the paper, by 
 the advice of the chaplain in the hospital, begging 
 any who were indebted to him to discharge their 
 debts as speedily as convenient, as his recent losses 
 had made such a step very necessary to him. But 
 no one had as yet found it " convenient," and he 
 was afraid it had become known that his books 
 were destroyed, in which case he was entirely at
 
 318 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 the mercy of his customers, who had but to burn 
 their bills and he could never renew them. He 
 was standing sadly enough by the heap where, as 
 well as he could judge, his safe must have fallen, 
 when he noticed a man of pleasant appearance who 
 seemed to have been also inspecting them. 
 
 This stranger advanced toward him with a kind 
 look and said, " From your appearance I fancy you 
 were one of the sufferers in this disaster?" 
 
 " It is true, sir. This was where my dwelling - 
 stood, in which I lived between thirty and forty 
 years," said Quality, with a sigh. 
 
 " Is your name Fogg, then ?" asked the stranger. 
 
 " It is, sir ; Quality Fogg, at your service," said 
 Quality, courteously. 
 
 " I'm very glad I happened to come, then," said 
 the stranger. " I know your name well, and you 
 know mine. My name is Grant." 
 
 "Oh, little Tommy's uncle?" cried Quality. 
 
 " The same," said the stranger. 
 
 " How is the dear child ?" said Quality. 
 
 " Rejoicing in his Saviour's presence," said Mr. 
 Grant. 
 
 " Gone ! Oh, I sha'n't see him again !" said 
 Quality, mournfully. 
 
 " He thought otherwise," said Mr. Grant. " He
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 319 
 
 was confident that he should meet you in a city 
 that hath foundations. He often spoke of you. I 
 was grieved that my business prevented me from 
 visiting you, and his mother could not leave him. 
 He became very ill from cold the day he saw you, 
 and survived not many weeks." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad he's in heaven, indeed I am. 
 He was fitter for it than for this world," said 
 Quality, with a sigh. 
 
 " Nay, I think those who are fittest for heaven 
 are the fittest to remain on earth, if the Lord sees 
 fit to keep them here," said Mr. Grant. " Don't 
 you know they are the salt that keeps it from cor- 
 ruption ? What should we do without them ? But 
 with regard to him, long struggling with thoughts 
 not common to his years, coupled with sorrow and 
 want, overbore his strength, for his frame was not 
 one to stand the ravages made by mind and body 
 together." 
 
 Quality did not answer. There was in his heart 
 a strange yearning after the child, a union with 
 him, that made him feel as if part of himself were 
 in the unseen world, and drew him toward it. 
 
 " When we know the whole of things we shall 
 see that we have been apt to call evil good and 
 good evil," said Mr. Grant. " He did not suffer
 
 320 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 without a gracious reason for it; and in his brief 
 life and in his death he bore a witness to his Mas- 
 ter that will not soon nor easily be forgotten. It 
 is well for us he lived ; it is well for him he lived 
 no longer, for short as his labours were he is happy 
 in resting from them." 
 
 Quality was rather awed by the superior man- 
 ner and address of Mr. Grant, and began, as the 
 latter went on to expatiate on the subject, to won- 
 der what he was. 
 
 "A religious teacher of some sort he must be," 
 he thought; "and a great gift of speaking he 
 seems to have." 
 
 By degrees he learnt that Mr. Grant had been 
 the master of a large school in a settlement in 
 America, where he had worked hard to sow the 
 seed of eternal life in the hearts of the young. In 
 this work he had eminently succeeded, when he 
 discovered, by means of some emigrants who had 
 known his brother, that he was dead, leaving his 
 widow in very necessitous circumstances. He im- 
 mediately resigned his post for a time into other 
 hands, and returned to England with the intention 
 of inducing the widow to emigrate with her chil- 
 dren, promising in that case to devote all his means 
 to their support and advancement in life. He did
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 321 
 
 not at that time tell all this to Quality, but the 
 fact of his calling having transpired, the latter was 
 filled with profound respect. 
 
 "But now," said the schoolmaster, having ac- 
 companied Quality to his lodgings, " what do you 
 mean to do ? Have you fixed on future plans ? Is 
 there anything I can do to help you ?" 
 
 Quality with readiness told him all his circum- 
 stances, especially the loss of the old ledger. 
 
 " That," said Mr. Grant, " is bad. But let me 
 have a list of your chief creditors j I will employ 
 some one to collect from them before it becomes 
 certainly known you have no check upon them." 
 
 Then he took a book from his pocket, set down 
 the names and addresses with the greatest pre- 
 cision, and promised before long to call on him 
 again with the results. 
 
 " Now, doesn't it seem as if I was being helped 
 from above?" thought Quality when he was gone. 
 " To be sure I have lost a great deal a great deal ; 
 but when I think it over, I'm sure I have found 
 more. Yes, I have, for 'what shall a man give in ex- 
 change for his soul ?' as it says in the Bible (and I 
 take it to mean, what is there that is too great a 
 price to pay for his soul ?). What's the use of all 
 lie world to a dying man ? and I'm as good as a 
 21
 
 322 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 dying man, though I may live a bit longer. So if 
 my soul is the chief thing, and that is provided for, 
 and I know it, I may be easy about the rest quite 
 easy especially as I see that I am being helped 
 and comforted. Doesn't this good man help me for 
 love's sake love to God, and love to that dear 
 child? and isn't it the kindness and love of God 
 that put it into his heart? Ay, that it is. For 
 ray part, I believe it's true ; they that fear the Lord 
 shall want no manner of thing that is good, as I 
 read this very day. I've read that Psalm a time 
 or two before, but never been a bit the better for 
 it!" 
 
 Leaning on the heavy old table the drawer of 
 which now contained only his Bible, he thought of 
 the past, and wondered how he could have fancied 
 himself happy when he had no hope beyond the 
 grave. He remembered the Sundays he had 
 passed, and the Sunday of the fire especially came 
 before him. 
 
 "So Mr. Luggett is a wreck. Poor man ! it's a 
 sad change for him, especially if he is not resigned 
 to it. To be sure he has plenty, for he was very 
 rich, and none of his property was much injured. 
 Strange, very, he should be spared. Well, noth- 
 'ng is in vain; all is wisely sent and kindly meant
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 323 
 
 I believe that. So no doubt it is in this case, 
 though it's harder for me to see it than for Mr. 
 Luggett." 
 
 The picture of Mr. Luggett rose before him, 
 sitting in a snug room in a comfortable easy-chair, 
 a good nurse and a well-supplied cupboard to soothe 
 his sufferings and help forward his cure. No 
 cares about to-morrow to hinder him from sleep- 
 ing ; no wondering what he should do for his 
 maintenance to fever and fret him and keep him 
 back! Insensibly he turned from pitying Mr. 
 Luggett to thinking his situation might have been 
 worse, that it had great alleviations, that many 
 had more to complain of, that, after all, the pinch- 
 ings of want and the fears of penury were a heavy 
 balance against competence and the comforts of 
 life ; that, in short, Mr. Luggett was in one light 
 a fortunate man, in whose shoes few would object 
 to stand (looking forward to a speedy recovery, of 
 course). Finally, he could not but consider that he 
 was to be envied ! 
 
 Yes, so earthly is the heart, so weak the flesh, 
 however willing the spirit, that Quality, looking 
 round him at his bare little room, his scant fire 
 and his supper of thin gruel of his own preparing 
 at the difficulties before him and the troubles
 
 324 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 he had gone through felt as if all the sunshine 
 of faith had departed, and that he was a forlorn, 
 deserted creature, hardly dealt with in comparison 
 with bad Mr. Luggett. He forgot all his mercies, 
 and his heart swelled and his eyes filled, and he 
 buried his face in his hands and vented his grief in 
 gentle but most melancholy moans. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MR. GRANT had undertaken no easy matter in 
 the recovering of Quality's debts. The commu- 
 nity among whom his customers were to be found 
 were not of the most desirable to trust ; they were 
 chiefly people who allowed " To-morrow " to take 
 care of itself, and spent everything " To-day." It 
 had ever been quite contrary to Quality's judg- 
 ment to put himself in the predicament of "To- 
 morrow ;" but he could not bear to turn away a 
 customer, and sometimes he found his advantage 
 in being paid in kind, getting a pair of shoes, for 
 instance, worth twice as much if he had had to 
 buy them as the tripe and trotters for which they 
 were bartered. Besides, he valued his name for 
 good-nature ; at that time it made a considerable 
 item in his good-works' list.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 325 
 
 But he had some customers who always paid, 
 and paid in money, substantial people by com- 
 parison, who, having saved enough to have some- 
 thing to lose, took care not to lose it, but to make 
 it more, and these Mr. Grant himself undertook 
 to attend to. Among them, at the head of them 
 nearly, was Mrs. Sarah Tucker. 
 
 She had for many years kept a shop in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the same kind as Quality's, only of a 
 higher order. She had a refreshment-room in 
 which company might dine, with the use of plates 
 and knives and forks, and very profitable she had 
 found it, and her dealings with Quality were upon 
 occasions of an overflow of company forcing her 
 to produce without notice more provision than she 
 had at hand. She had found him very useful in. 
 this way, and approved of his goods and his prices/ 
 only she had a faculty of forgetting what she had 
 had, and therefore of thinking he remembered too 
 much. 
 
 Mr. Grant found her in her shop, and stating 
 that he had business, requested an interview. Mrs. 
 Sarah looked at him ; he had not the promising ap- 
 pearance of a customer; she had judged so from 
 the first glimpse of him. Taxes? or a traveler 
 with samples of goods ? which line did he belong
 
 326 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 to? She led the way to the parlour, where the 
 table was spread for company. 
 
 Mr. Grant in a few words asked for the dis- 
 charge of Quality's bill. 
 
 " Old Fogg ! Dear me ! we could have done that 
 little business in the shop !" said Mrs. Sarah. 
 
 " Very good ; shall we return there ? as you say, 
 it is but a short business," said Mr. Grant. 
 
 Mrs. Sarah led the way back, and begging Mr. 
 Grant to be seated, asked if he had the account 
 with him. 
 
 "You have that," he answered. 
 
 "Somewhere, I believe it is, but it would be 
 quicker if you would show me a copy," said Mrs. 
 Sarah. 
 
 "I have no copy with me; I can wait till you 
 have found it, though time is precious," said Mr. 
 Grant, seating himself by the counter. 
 
 " That's provoking now," said Mrs. Sarah ; " I 
 might hunt twenty places and never turn it up." 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you the amount, and I'll give 
 you a receipt; that will do," said Mr. Grant, 
 calmly. 
 
 " Do for old Fogg, sir, but not for me," said 
 Mrs. Sarah, tartly; "I don't know about that bill, 
 sir ; I should like to see Fogg about it."
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 327 
 
 "You would be sorry to see him, poor man; 
 lie is still very weak, and the money is much 
 wanted." 
 
 "Poor Fogg! an innocent little man and well 
 deserving is Fogg, but given to a bad memory 
 sometimes all without a meaning, only mistakes 
 makes mistakes," said Mrs. Sarah. 
 
 " Any mistakes in your bill ?" asked Mr. Grant. 
 
 " I've got my doubts about several things sev- 
 eral ; as to that chine of pork it starts with, I be- 
 lieve I never had it," said Mrs. Sarah. 
 
 " Then you are prepared to contest the bill, and 
 we shall have to prove it. Pity ! law is expensive," 
 said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " Law ! law between me and Fogg ! likely 
 that !" said Mrs. Sarah ; " only I like fair dealing. 
 Fair play's a jewel, that's what I say ;" and evi- 
 dently, by the twinkle of her little black eyes, she 
 thought it worth saying. 
 
 " Fair play is a jewel a jewel," repeated Mr. 
 Grant, thoughtfully. "That's true; a jewel will 
 stand the fire : all truth is of the jewel kind." 
 
 Mrs. Sarah stared at this holding up to view her 
 favourite aphorism with such grave accompani- 
 ments. 
 
 " I trust you mean to deal fairly by the poor
 
 328 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 man, and to show that you prize this jewel," said 
 Mr. Grant. 
 
 Now Mrs. Sarah's back was up ; what did the 
 man mean by hoping she meant to deal fairly by 
 the poor man ? Was there any doubt that she 
 would ? 
 
 She replied with sharp words and sundry little 
 jerks and tosses of her head that sent her shiny 
 black curls shaking and trembling with vehemence. 
 
 Mr. Grant listened with perfect composure, and 
 replied that he was quite glad to hear her speak in 
 such terms of the probity and good faith to which 
 she could lay claim, concluding with a request for 
 proof of the same in the payment of the bill. 
 
 Mrs. Sarah answered in a huffy tone that she 
 would pay her bill to Fogg, and to nobody else. 
 
 " I'm glad that you Avill," said Mr. Grant, " for 
 the sight of the poor man Avill touch your heart 
 with pity, and I'm sure you will not keep him long 
 without his own." 
 
 Mi's. Sarah had no mind to listen to any sentiment 
 or opinion of Mr. Grant's, and made no answer. 
 
 " But you must have his address, poor man !" 
 said Mr. Grant ; " kindly lend me pen and ink, 
 and I'll write it down." 
 
 Mrs. Sarah complied, but not "kindly," though
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 329 
 
 the immovable temper of the good man almost 
 disarmed her. 
 
 " There !" said Mr. Grant, handing it to her ; 
 " it's a poor place, and he is poorly off, and his 
 friends who would help him are too poor to do it 
 effectually ; but he has great consolation the only 
 true consolation through all his sufferings, and 
 believes that his trials will bring forth the peace- 
 able fruits of righteousness." 
 
 " You are a friend of his, then ?" demanded 
 Mrs. Sarah, with less asperity. 
 
 " I would gladly be a useful one," said Mr. 
 Grant, " but at present it is not in my power to do 
 more than spend a little time and trouble on him ; 
 these I am glad to give." 
 
 "Then you are collecting for nothing?" de- 
 manded Mrs. Sarah. 
 
 " Nay, for the highest hopes of payment. Have 
 you never read that he who gives to a disciple a 
 cup of cold water shall in no wise lose his re- 
 ward?" 
 
 "Ah," said Mrs. Tucker, who did not choose to 
 venture in strange waters, "but I mean you are 
 not to be paid for the job by Fogg ?" 
 
 Mr. Grant shook his head with a grave smile. 
 
 " Well, that's good-natured, I must say," said
 
 330 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 Mrs. Sarah; "you must excuse me being a little 
 sharp with you, but I thought you was a-twitting 
 me about being fair." 
 
 Mr. Grant declared that he freely excused her ; 
 he was leaving the shop when Mrs. Sarah asked 
 him some further particulars about Quality, to 
 which she listened with interest, repeatedly saying 
 at intervals, " Poor old Fogg ! poor old Fogg !" 
 
 " Well, sir, and how, if I may ask, did you first 
 come to know him ?" she said. 
 
 Mr. Grant told the story of his sending the il-la- 
 mode to Tommy, and of the child's love for him. 
 
 "Well, that was very pretty, very pretty in- 
 deed," said Mrs. Sarah ; " and his a-la-mode was 
 very good, too. I've often sent for it myself when 
 I wanted a dish at hand. So he sent it to the sick 
 little boy? Now that was kind of him, for he had 
 hard work to get on and save a penny, I know. 
 Well, sir, if you don't mind stopping while I'm 
 rummaging a little, I'll maybe find the bill, and 
 then I'll pay it. I dare say it's all right ; anyhow, 
 he shall have the money, but I'll come and see 
 him ; be sure I'll give him a call, and take him 
 some a-la-mode too, see if I don't !" 
 
 After a little rummaging, Mrs. Sarah found the 
 bill, and paid it every penny, though she made a
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 331 
 
 mark against the chine and one or two other arti- 
 cles on which she maintained she was in want of 
 satisfaction, that she might talk them over with 
 Quality when he got better. 
 
 Mr. Grant folded the money in paper and put it 
 in his purse, looking as he did so at the animated 
 Mrs. Sarah, whose face and voice had exchanged 
 any appearance of wrath for that of sympathy and 
 good will. 
 
 " You will go and see him ?" he asked. 
 
 " I will !" she said, slapping the counter. 
 
 " And take him a present ?" 
 
 " I will. I said it, and I will," she answered. 
 
 " Don't lose sight of the reward," he said. 
 
 She fixed her black eyes on him, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 "'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
 least of these, ye have done it unto me.' Do it 
 for his sake, and assuredly you shall be well re- 
 warded, but do it only for your friend's sake and 
 to please your feelings, and verily you have your 
 reward." 
 
 This was strange talking in Mrs. Sarah's ears ; 
 she was not offended by it, but she did not respond 
 to it. She followed the schoolmaster with her eyes 
 down the street, and said to herself, "He's a
 
 332 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 preacher of some sort, I'll be bound. Well, he's a 
 good sort of man, and I don't mind hearing good 
 people talk so. Poor old Fogg ! If I don't have 
 too much company for Betsy to manage this even- 
 ing, I'll go and see him, that I will ;" and she 
 looked out a jar in which to carry her offering of 
 "a-la-mode," the question involuntarily rising in 
 her mind whether she should have a reward for it 
 a question she had never asked herself before, and 
 which she could by no means answer now. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE days varied but little with Quality. When 
 the wind was cold he dared not go out, for he was 
 not strong enough to resist it. All his clothing 
 had been burnt; he had only a few things which 
 his scanty purse had enabled him to buy. Besides, 
 his room was at the top of the house ; he was yet a 
 little lame and he was very weak ; so when the air 
 that came freely into his little room through the 
 infirmities of door and window was keen and pier- 
 cing, he kept close to his poor fire and tried to 
 comfort himself by reading. 
 
 A week had passed since he had seen Mr. Grant, 
 Davy was still working at a distance, and no one
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 333 
 
 had been to break the tedium of his loneliness. 
 He had tried to pray tried very hard but it 
 seemed to him the more he tried the less he could 
 do it. When he began to ask for faith, the loss he 
 had sustained, or his anxieties for the future, or 
 something connected with these, would come into 
 his thoughts and put all else to flight. He seemed 
 to himself to be just the same as when Davy had 
 found him with sinking heart at the hospital ; in- 
 deed, he thought, " I can no more pray now than I 
 could when I was altogether wrong, when I never 
 really tried to pray." 
 
 " I will try and go out," he thought ; " I believe 
 the longer I sit here, the worse I get." 
 
 He took his crutch and his stick and got down 
 stairs, and stood at the street door, but it was so 
 cold he dared not venture, and he was turning in 
 with a disconsolate face when a stout little woman 
 with a huge plaid shawl, a bonnet that threatened 
 to break down with flowers, a bright, round face, 
 sharp eyes and black curls, came posting down the 
 street with a jar under her shawl. 
 
 It was Mrs. Tucker, Quality was sure it was, 
 and he could not bear the idea of being looked 
 upon by her with the contempt he felt belonging to 
 his present circumstances. He turned round to the
 
 334 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 door, hoping she had not discovered him or did not 
 know him. But those little eyes were too quick 
 for his feeble haste. 
 
 "Fogg! Fogg! why, Fogg!" she called out, 
 finishing the distance with a brisk little run, 
 "you're never the man to run away from an old 
 friend, are you ?" 
 
 Her action and tone of voice showed Quality 
 he had nothing to fear. He stood shivering till 
 she came, with something of his old smile on his 
 face. 
 
 " "Well, you are gone to ravellings !" she ex- 
 claimed. "I wouldn't have believed it; come in, 
 it's too cold for you to be out, I'm sure. Where's 
 your lodging ? Up stairs ? Get up then ; the sooner 
 we're by the fire, the better ; this wind's colder than 
 Christmas." 
 
 Quality hobbled up before her as fast as he could, 
 but she danced impatiently on each stair behind 
 him, and at last they landed in his room. 
 
 " Oh dear ! what a dunjin of a hole !" she ex- 
 claimed ; " sure, you might get a better place than 
 this !" 
 
 Quality, when he had got his breath, told her of 
 his hopes of starting again in business, and how he 
 sa\ed all he could on account of it.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 335 
 
 " Well, that's something, but don't kill yourself 
 in the care you're taking of what will be of no use 
 to you then," said Mrs. Sarah, producing the it-la- 
 mode. " Come, get a cup and have a taste of this, 
 it will hearten you up, just as it did the little boy 
 you sent it to." 
 
 Quality's eyes glistened ; he had not seen such 
 fare for a long time, but the reminder of his gift to 
 little Tommy made his heart beat. This great jar, 
 full of the prime article, how different from the 
 watered portion he had given ! 
 
 Mrs. Sarah would not let him talk till he had 
 eaten some, and then began to enter into a long 
 discussion of all that had happened and was to 
 happen. 
 
 " If I'd known where they'd taken you, I'd have 
 come to see you, Fogg," she said ; " but really, 
 what with business and so many's being in trouble 
 that one hardly remembers who's in and who's out, 
 I may as well tell the truth, I forgot all about 
 you." 
 
 Quality was so refreshed by his meal that he got 
 quite energetic, and entered fully on his plans. 
 
 " Well, you've got my best wishes for it answer- 
 ing, and I hope it will ; and if you do as I recom- 
 mend, you'll keep about here, for all your old trade
 
 336 RICHES WITHOUT WINOS. 
 
 will come back to you, depend on it," said Mrs. 
 Sarah. 
 
 Quality said he had thought of applying to Mr. 
 Luggett for the shop in the street round the corner 
 of Swan lane. 
 
 " The very thing ; apply at once," said Mrs. 
 Sarah. 
 
 "But he may refuse me; we had a little misun- 
 derstanding, and he was very hard upon me the 
 last time I saw him," said Quality. 
 
 " Then with his good will you'll never get it, 
 for he's as bitter as a gall-nut when he takes again 
 any one, and \ve all know there's no sweetening 
 that" said Mrs. Sarah. 
 
 "Then I must try and get some other place," 
 said Quality. 
 
 "No, stick to that; that's the place," said Mrs. 
 Sarah. 
 
 "But if I can't get it?" said Quality. 
 
 " Can't ! What's to hinder you ? You can't get 
 it with his leave, but you can without, I suppose," 
 said Mrs. Sarah. 
 
 " How ?" asked Quality. 
 
 " Get a friend to take it ; that Mr. What-d'ye- 
 call him that came for your bill he's a good hand 
 to do business get him to take it and let it after
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 337 
 
 to you on the sly ; he won't be able to turn you 
 out, for he's just alive and tliat's all, they say no 
 spirit to do anything." 
 
 " Mr. Grant wouldn't do anything on the sly, 
 and I I wouldn't," said Quality. 
 
 " What ! not to such a hard-mouthed, ill-sorted 
 man as that ? I would, and glory in it, too," said 
 Mrs. Sarah, exulting at the thought of it. 
 
 Quality shook his head, and made a remark or 
 two that reminded Mrs. Sarah of what Mr. Grant 
 had said about him. 
 
 "Ah," she said, "he said (Mr. What-d'ye-call 
 him) that you had taken to very good ways, and I 
 was glad to hear it, so I brought you this; it's 
 what some lady leaves at the shop every week, and 
 there it lays on the ledge till she comes again, for 
 what time have me and Betsy got to read, I won- 
 der ? But I know it's about what is good, so I'll 
 lend it you, and you've got nothing else to do but 
 read, and I'll send Betsy with a little something 
 nourishing on Friday night, and you can let her 
 have it again in time for the lady." 
 
 So saying, she produced a tract done up in 
 brown paper, which Quality received with his 
 usual politeness, and after a little more kind talk 
 she departed, leaving him to read it or not as he 
 
 22
 
 338 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 liked, and hoping he would manage to get over his 
 scruples and outwit Mr. Luggett. 
 
 Quality was much cheered. What a precious 
 elixir is kindness ! The good meal had given him 
 vigour, " put heart into him," as we say ; but the 
 pleasant voice, the cordial sympathy these had 
 made it work with double benefit. 
 
 " She is a kind creature, I always liked her," he 
 thought, stirring his little fire and determining to 
 put on some more coal on the strength of her ad- 
 vice. "As she says, it's of no use to save the 
 money if I don't use enough of it to get well ; 
 that's very sensible. She has paid her bill, she 
 says. Well, I never knew her pay a bill before 
 without making a few words of ' I don't remem- 
 ber this,' or 'Sure this is a mistake;' but she 
 never made a word now; it must have been be- 
 cause I was low in the world. Very feeling, very 
 feeling !" 
 
 The expression of his face was wonderfully 
 altered as he sat thus ruminating; the smile M'ith 
 which he had bidden her good-bye still lingered 
 there. He forgot now the sorrow that had lately 
 so much oppressed him, forgot his doubts of safety 
 and his hopes of heaven, his heart went out vigor- 
 ously toward the new start he hoped to make, and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 339 
 
 he wondered much if he could in any way compass 
 Mr. Luggett's shop. Would it be wrong to ask 
 Mr. Grant to take it and sublet it to him without 
 telling Mr. Luggett ? He was sure if it was wrong 
 he would not do it for the world as sure as he 
 felt that Mr. Grant would not but was it wrong ? 
 He considered it on all sides, and got so deep in 
 his subject that evening began to close in before 
 he was aware of it. 
 
 " I'll light a bit of candle," he said, for he did 
 not always indulge in that expense, reading enough 
 by daylight, as he had nothing, else to do, and 
 thinking and meditating in the dark. 
 
 " I haven't read much to-day," he thought as 
 he got his candle. " I mustn't give up my reading ; 
 that will never do." 
 
 In reaching the candle he struck his injured 
 arm, and the fear of increasing the pain made him 
 hesitate about opening the heavy drawer of the old 
 table in which lay his Bible. Should he go to bed 
 without reading? Truth to tell, his head and heart 
 were so full of plans for the future that he could 
 have willingly gone straight to bed, and given up 
 his mind to it till he fell asleep, very much in the 
 style of old days. But he dared not, and he was 
 glad when the tract which lay on the table caught
 
 340 RICHES WITHOUT WIXGS. 
 
 his eye. " This is all about the Bible," he thought; 
 " I will read some of it." 
 
 The arrangement was very satisfactory to him, 
 for it not only appeased his conscience, but did a 
 part of the work Mrs. Sarah had left for him to do, 
 for he would not on any account have been so im- 
 polite as to return the tract without reading it, so 
 he snuffed his candle and began to read. The sub- 
 ject was, " The Continuing City." It opened with 
 a bright description of the heavenly Jerusalem, 
 which would have strongly excited Quality's affec- 
 tions a short time before, when he felt weak and 
 trembling, depressed and wretched, forlorn, for- 
 saken and hopeless as to this life. Then the pros- 
 pect of fulness of joy in that Presence where no 
 sorrow can come, for no sin can enter, would have 
 been very soothing ; the sense of "nothing here" 
 would have made him cling to the hope of "all 
 there." But he did not feel trembling now ; his 
 good meal had steadied his hand and cleared his 
 head ; the cheery talk of Mrs. Sarah had brought 
 him back to a friendly, comfortable world, and the 
 prospect of Mr. Luggett's shop had drawn him 
 powerfully toward desiring to make himself once 
 more prosperous and comfortable in it. So the 
 description went over his head. He read it, and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 341 
 
 said twice to himself, "Very beautiful," with a 
 righteous little sigh, but he looked, before he had 
 finished, to see how long the description was. Only 
 a page ; the next went on to speak of the inhab- 
 itants of the city. Here the point was pressed of 
 its being the purchase of the blood and righteous- 
 ness of Jesus, to be bestowed by him on his own. 
 people. Quality assented to this without any de- 
 mur, and as he considered his mind settled on that 
 point was glad when it was finished. 
 
 The third head was the character of these in- 
 habitants. Quality had a great mind to put out 
 his candle and go to bed ; he had read a great deal 
 a matter of four pages ; he would finish the rest 
 in the morning. But once more, after a minute 
 of indecision, he snuffed his candle again and read 
 on. He read, and insensibly the words laid hold 
 on him; the moral character and spiritual affec- 
 tions were drawn with force from Scripture rules 
 and models. He became staggered ; this an inhab- 
 itant of the continuing city ! Alas ! where was his 
 hope ? Had he those earnest longings for sanctifi- 
 cation, that devout love, that constraining gratitude 
 toward the Author of salvation ? Were these abid- 
 ing in him ? His face fell ; he saw how it was it 
 was only while he was uncomfortable that he was
 
 342 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 heavenly-minded; directly things brightened a lit- 
 tle he could turn his back on heaven ; a good meal, 
 and a kind word, and good-natured worldly ad- 
 vice, had made another man of him. Surely he 
 was in a manner like Esau, who sold his birth- 
 right for a mess of pottage ! Yes, he was Esau 
 he saw it now ; he never had been sincere ; if he 
 had been, such trifles could not have so influenced 
 him. 
 
 He closed the tract and sat with his troubled 
 face, looking at the brown cover. " The Continu- 
 ing City " written on its back seemed to be mock- 
 ing him. " It's not for me" he said, peevishly, 
 pushing it aside " it's not for me. I may as well 
 give it up. I shall always be like this, and a cast- 
 away in the end, I doubt !" 
 
 " Mr. Fogg ! Oh, you're not gone to bed I see. 
 I'm sorry to be so late, but I've not time at my 
 disposal," said Mr. Grant, coming in. 
 
 Quality received him with a very different air 
 from that with which he would have done it an 
 hour sooner. 
 
 " I fear you are not so well," said Mr. Grant ; 
 " the pain, has it returned ?" 
 
 " I knocked my arm," said Quality, glad of the 
 excuse to account for the tears coming into his eyes.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 343 
 
 " Poor man ! poor man !" said Mr. Grant. 
 " Well," taking up the tract and looking at the 
 title, " in this city there shall be no pain." 
 
 "Yes," said Quality, uneasily, "I've been read- 
 ing it." 
 
 "And doubtless it comforted you greatly," said 
 Mr. Grant. 
 
 Quality was silent. 
 
 " Didn't it refresh and strengthen you ?" asked 
 Mr. Grant, who never asked a question without 
 waiting for an answer. 
 
 " It would if, if, if" Quality began. 
 
 " If what ? You surely don't doubt the truth ?" 
 said Mr. Grant, gravely. 
 
 "!Not for other people not for you and dear 
 little Tommy. I believe it for all like him, but 
 Oh dear I" and overcome by his feelings, he could 
 say no more. 
 
 Mr. Grant saw what it was, and the extremity 
 of his companion softened his usually cold and for- 
 mal manner to one of Christian tenderness. 
 
 "Why do you doubt, my brother?" he said, 
 affectionately. 
 
 "Oh, don't call me brother! you don't know 
 how hollow I am. I believe, if ever I am to be 
 a Christian, I have got to begin quite from the be-
 
 344 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 ginning," said Quality in tones of the deepest 
 melancholy, going on to confess the fluctuations of 
 his spiritual condition without any sparing of 
 himself. 
 
 " My brother," said Mr. Grant, with still greater 
 warmth, " they who are for ever banished from the 
 continuing city are not troubled with such doubts 
 as yours. If these fears of yours are just, then I 
 am in the case you dread for yourself, for I have 
 them too often, but blessed be God ! not to give 
 way to them, but to fight and conquer them 
 through Him that fighteth for us, and this you 
 must do. Remember the watchwords of the whole 
 warfare are * Watch and pray.' " 
 
 " I don't know how to watch," said Quality, 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Nay, if so, how was it you discovered so much 
 wrong in your heart?" asked Mr. Grant. 
 
 A flickering of light passed over Quality's face, 
 but he said again : 
 
 " I can't pray ! I try to pray, but I can't say 
 (what good people say) I love to pray ; I can't, and 
 that's the truth. I can't make prayers ; in a few 
 words, I break down, and begin to think of 
 something else ; I do ; it's very shocking, but I 
 do !" he said, with mournful energy.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 345 
 
 " Never mind ; let your broken words go up to 
 heaven," said the schoolmaster. "Remember, 
 words are but accidents of prayer; your blessed 
 Advocate will put these broken prayers together, 
 foolish and unworthy as they are, and perfume them 
 with his own merits." 
 
 Quality was silent. 
 
 " Brother, let us pray !" said the schoolmaster. 
 
 Half an hour after this the little man sat once 
 more alone. 
 
 But he was not alone, and he knew it. 
 
 His friend had earnestly pleaded for the presence 
 of the Comforter, that Holy Spirit whose brooding 
 over chaos brought out beauty and harmony, and 
 whose blessed coming into the weary, aching, lonely 
 heart fills it with rest and peace and joy. And 
 his prayer was heard, and the tears that now stole 
 down Quality's face were those of a penitent child 
 who was glad of pardon, and he earnestly whispered 
 in his heart, "Father, gracious Father, I have 
 sinned ; oh, hold me up. I am very weak ; hold 
 me up, and I shall be safe till I get to the con- 
 tinuing city !"
 
 34G RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MR. LTJGGETT'S temper had not improved in his 
 illness; his spirits had become much embittered, 
 and the pain he suffered at times sadly irritated 
 him. The landlord of the Three Tuns had died in 
 the hospital, Mr. Winks was confined to his house, 
 and of the remainder of the club, which was now 
 broken up, very few were of a kind that would 
 spend spare hours with the miserable. What made 
 their visits more rare was the injunction of the 
 doctors, that the auctioneer was to take only a pre- 
 scribed quantity of stimulant, and that no strong 
 liquor of any kind was to be brought before him, 
 as he was so uncontrollable in his will that if it 
 were he would probably commit some fatal excess. 
 Thus there was no incentive of any kind to the 
 club to submit to the dulness of such a sick room. 
 Mr. Luggett abused them, called them ungrateful 
 and hard-hearted ; their ingratitude he was par- 
 ticularly strong upon, for had he not often given 
 them a treat at the Tuns ? Had he not sung good 
 songs to them, and interested them while they were 
 drinking at his expense with many pleasing par- 
 ticulars in his own personal history, such as his 
 beautiful coat and excellent stockings ? The nurse
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 347 
 
 was as much provoked with them as he was, for by 
 means of their visits she might now and then have 
 got a holiday, but she was tied continually to her 
 post, sighing for relief and not very amiable some- 
 times to her patient. 
 
 Mr. Grant thought it was about the dingiest, 
 gloomiest place he had ever seen when he called, a 
 day or two after he had been with Quality, on the 
 subject of the shop. 
 
 " You have suffered much, Mr. Luggett ?" 
 
 " I should think I have," said the auctioneer. 
 
 " Confinement is very trying," said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " I should like you to try it," said the auction- 
 eer, whom a fit of pain, hardly passed off, had left 
 in his very worst temper. 
 
 " Thank you ! I'm grateful that it's not my lot 
 to be in a state of confinement," said Mr. Grant. 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Luggett thought he had been too 
 rough. A visitor, whatever he came for, was valu- 
 able, so he mended his manners and said, " Pain is 
 a shocking thing." 
 
 Mr. Grant assented, and hinted at the terrors of 
 that place where pain in infinite duration and ex- 
 tent must be endured. 
 
 Mr. Luggett's face grew dark; he made no 
 answer.
 
 348 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 "On this side of the grave we are on praying 
 ground, therefore on hope's ground," said Mr. 
 Grant. 
 
 Mr. Luggett, as many had done before him, 
 wondered who and what his visitor was, suspecting 
 him to be a missionary of some sort, several of 
 whom had at times laboured in that district. He 
 scowled at him under his heavy eyebrows, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 " I'm come on a little business," said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " Oh !" said the auctioneer, relieved to hear it. 
 
 " You have a small shop in this street. A friend 
 of mine wishes to take it ; is it to be had ?" 
 
 " Don't know," said Mr. Luggett. 
 
 " He would like an answer," said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " What business ?" asked Mr. Luggett. 
 
 Mr. Grant hesitated. 
 
 " Eating-house ?" asked Mr. Luggett. 
 
 " Yes, it is," said the schoolmaster. 
 
 " Quality Fogg ?" asked Mr. Luggett. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Grant, 
 
 " ShaVt have it !" said Mr. Luggett. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mr. Grant, calmly. 
 
 " No business of anybody's. Sha'n't have it !" 
 said Mr. Luggett. 
 
 Mr. Grant expostulated, warned, advised, all in
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 349 
 
 vain. He returned to Quality's lodging with the 
 account of his ill success, and recommended him to 
 try some other situation, reminding him that suc- 
 cess was not pinned to that spot, and declaring 
 that for his own part he should prefer any landlord 
 to Mr. Luggett. 
 
 While he was talking, who should come in but 
 little Mrs. Sarah Tucker? Amicable greetings 
 passed between her and the schoolmaster, and she 
 was briefly made acquainted with what had passed. 
 
 While Mr. Grant stayed, having an awe of him 
 which she could neither understand nor overcome, 
 Mrs. Sarah said nothing, but directly he was gone 
 she said to Quality, "Give up that shop? not for 
 twenty old Luggetts ! I'll get it for you ; never 
 trust me if I don't. I know him ; a regular old 
 curmudgeon he is, and it's all fair to make him do 
 good against his will." 
 
 " But Mr. Grant couldn't do it," said Quality. 
 
 " Him ? no, not the way he went about it not 
 likely; he was sure not to let you have it, we 
 know that. He's a good man of business, that Mr. 
 What-d'ye-call him, with honest people, but he's 
 no match for such as old Luggett. No, no. I'll 
 do him and glad of the job, for he sold me a table 
 once in the most take-in way you ever knew, and
 
 350 RICHES WITHOUT WINQS. 
 
 not a penny could I get back ; and didn't he turn 
 Betsy's mother out of his house when she lived 
 under him, neck and crop, just because she gave 
 her mind about the table behind his back, and I 
 was so fast-tongued as to back myself by telling 
 him her words? To be sure, I don't forget him, 
 old Turk ! and I'll go to him straight away and 
 see if I don't manage it !" 
 
 Quality could not have stopped her if he would. 
 Mrs. Sarah, her face as shiny as one of her own 
 copper kettles, her eyes twinkling and her curls 
 dancing as if in anticipation of victory, was at the 
 corner house in no time. 
 
 It was a benefit to the street that the auctioneer 
 had suffered and survived his sufferings, for the 
 business was to die, or at least to faint away, till he 
 should recover; he would have no foreman, no 
 substitute, to cheat or worry him. So the street 
 was clear, not a chest of drawers, a table or a 
 chair invited the affections and covetous desires of 
 the passengers and wayfarers. 
 
 "Is Mr. Luggett to be seen, Mrs. Thomas?" 
 said Mrs. Sarah, with a friendly nod to the nurse, 
 as if her whole heart was full of sympathy for 
 her. 
 
 " I don't know if he'll see any one or not ; he's
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 351 
 
 in a sweet temper to-day," said Mrs. Thomas, de- 
 lighted with the chance of giving a vent to her 
 disgust. 
 
 " Oh, dear heart ! it must be very trying to you, 
 I'm sure," said Mrs. Sarah, soothingly. 
 
 Trying ! was that the word ? Mrs. Thomas let 
 her know speedily it was not; but that aggra- 
 vating, tormenting, ruinating, and much worse 
 words if they could be coined, were all too weak, 
 too faint, to describe her condition. 
 
 "Ah, temper's a shocking thing, isn't it, 
 'specially in them that gives way to it? but I 
 s'pose there's no help for it with him till he gets 
 better. But I've got a bit of good news for him ; 
 I thought it would please him, and that will be 
 good for you, you see." 
 
 " There's no knowing what he calls good news ; 
 he's been rating away this half hour about a gen- 
 tleman as came for the shop down the street, and 
 he says Mr. Fogg sha'n't have it; he'd sooner 
 see it burnt down first, and you'd have thought 
 he'd seen enough of fire, wouldn't you?" 
 
 Mrs. Sarah looked duly shocked, but urged the 
 nurse to get her admittance. 
 
 Mr. Luggett had half a mind to say no ; he con- 
 sidered that he had been insulted about the affair
 
 352 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 of the table, which was the precise ground of Mrs. 
 Sarah's grudge. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas, however, hinted that folks that 
 had so few visitors might make much of those they 
 got, and said that Mrs. Sarah Tucker brought good 
 news. 
 
 "Dear me, Mr. Luggett, sir! how you are 
 changed !" said Mrs. Sarah, with as much concern 
 as she could get into her face when she did not feel 
 any in her heart. 
 
 Mr. Luggett felt the first dose of flattery to be 
 soothing, and said, "I look bad, don't I? I've 
 been worse, I can tell you." 
 
 For Mr. Luggett, being always full of himself, 
 was very proud now of his sufferings, when he was 
 at leisure from pain to exalt himself by means of 
 them. 
 
 " Well, have you ?" said Mrs. Sarah ; " then I 
 pity you ! You look for all the world as if you'd 
 been buried and dug up; now, don't he, Mrs. 
 Thomas?" 
 
 Mr. Luggett was much softened by so striking a 
 description of his appearance one which very few 
 people besides himself would have considered com- 
 plimentary. 
 
 " And what are the doctors doing for you ? and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 353 
 
 what may you have?" said Mrs. Sarah, asking 
 question on question, and entering with great gusto 
 into his abuse of his ungrateful friends and the 
 exorbitant expense his doctors put him to. 
 
 " Oh dear ! as for gratitude, Mr. Luggett, you 
 mustn't look for it. I've looked till I'm tired, and 
 forced to sit down without it. As to doctors, keep 
 me from doctors ! I look on 'em all as worse than 
 the biggest plagues they cure to poor people, that 
 is but a man of your property ought not to be so 
 hard on 'em." 
 
 Mr. Luggett was quite coy. Mrs. Sarah saw he 
 was in a mood propitious for her attack. 
 
 " I suppose you'll be laying on a little in rents 
 to make up for it ; well, you gentlemen with your 
 whole streets of houses can afford a doctor, if any- 
 body can. And that reminds me, I want that lit- 
 tle shop in this street I'm thinking of opening it 
 in my way, putting in some one and seeing to it 
 that they make it answer. I hope you'll be con- 
 sidering, and not put it up too high. I suppose 
 there's a wash-house and a good oven. I've not 
 been over it." 
 
 Mrs. Sarah spoke very fast, shaking her curls 
 with a jerk, as if she was wholly independent of 
 any other motive than the one assigned, fixing her 
 
 23
 
 354 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 bright black eyes in a half defiant way on him to 
 maintain her position. 
 
 "Who'll you put there?" said Mr. Luggett, 
 half suspecting. 
 
 " Who ? can't say yet ! You don't know of a 
 good hand do you ? Betsy's too young ; but I 
 shall find some one, I'll be bound." 
 
 " Not Quality Fogg ?" asked Mr. Luggett, sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 " Old Fogg ! likely that I Why he's shrivelled 
 up like an old glove ; he won't be fit to work for 
 a while," said Mrs. Tucker, with her deceitful 
 tongue. 
 
 Mr. Luggett considered, then said, " Some fellow 
 has been about it for him this morning." 
 
 " Why, you don't say so !" cried Mrs. Sarah, 
 looking innocently astonished. 
 
 "I wouldn't let it to him at any price," said 
 Mr. Luggett. 
 
 "That I wouldn't f" said Mrs. Sarah. "How 
 is he to make the rent ?" 
 
 " I don't care for that, he shall never have it !" 
 said Mr. Luggett. 
 
 " You keep to that ; you always went for a man 
 of your word," said Mrs. Sarah; "so let it to me. 
 I'll have it on a lease, say seven years. I hope by
 
 QUALITY FOOG'S OLD LEDGER. 355 
 
 that time to have done business, and give up and 
 retire like you, Mr. Luggett. Dear ! how comfort- 
 able off you are! what a chair you've got! I 
 should think this was worth three pounds ten, 
 new?" she said, pinching the cushion and' padding 
 of the chair with a critical air. 
 
 " A good chair enough," said Mr. Luggett, look- 
 ing at it complacently. 
 
 " Yes. I should never want a bed if I had such 
 a one. Why, it's worth being bad to sit in it. 
 Well, about this lease ? I must be going. I like a 
 lease, because, being a business that only pays in 
 the long run, I shall want that time to get my 
 money well back ; but I hope to have done with it 
 then, as I said." 
 
 Mr. Luggett made one or two demurs, but after 
 a very dextrous fight on Mrs. Sarah's part she 
 conquered. He promised her the shop on a lease 
 of seven years, and signed a promise to that effect, 
 Mrs. Thomas being witness. 
 
 " I shall start at once, and anything you would 
 like, being so handy, I shall be proud to serve 
 you," she said. " You'll have the lease ready for 
 me quickly, won't you ?" 
 
 Mr. Luggett assented, and she, scarce able to 
 contain her triumph, went back to Quality's lodg-
 
 356 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 ing, and taking the key of the house from her 
 pocket, laid it on the table. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you I'd do him?" she said, snap- 
 ping her fingers with delight. 
 
 " Really ! and has he let me have it ?" said 
 Quality, amazed. 
 
 "Let you have it? you! why, he'd as soon 
 have let it to the flames. He says so l rather burn 
 it down than let it to you ;' that's the fun of it !" 
 and she clapped her hands with delight. 
 
 " But how then ?" said Quality, looking at the 
 key. 
 
 " Pooh ! can't you see ? I've took it, and you're 
 going into it. I'm not afraid of your getting the 
 rent, and paying it too ! Well, if anybody had 
 done me such a turn," said Mrs. Sarah, "I wouldn't 
 have paid 'em off with a glum look like that; 
 that I wouldn't !" 
 
 Quality could not conceal his vexation j he did 
 not speak. 
 
 " Never a word of a thank'ee !" said Mrs. Sarah, 
 in a huff. 
 
 "I don't think I'm sure you mean to be so 
 kind, and I am so very much obliged to you, and 
 I don't know how to thank you ; but you see if 
 Mr. Luggett thinks that you are going into it, and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEItfER. 357 
 
 finds out that I am his tenant, he'll turn me out at 
 once." 
 
 " Can't, can't !" said Mrs. Sarah; "got a lease 
 for seven years to be signed in a week. Keep your 
 own counsel ; never say a word, and the house is 
 yours. So good-bye, and get well on it." 
 
 "Mrs. Tucker, ma'am Mrs. Tucker," cried 
 Quality as she was departing, "I really humbly 
 beg your pardon, but I couldn't let you do such 
 an unpleasant thing as to deceive Mr. Luggett on 
 my account." 
 
 " Unpleasant, man ! how you talk !" said Mrs. 
 Sarah. " I tell you I never was better pleased." 
 
 " But I can't be a party to deceiving him, ma'am. 
 I'm so sorry, I'm so very sorry, but if you could 
 have got him to let me have it, I should have been 
 glad above anything ; but this way it would be so 
 wrong seem so dishonest !" 
 
 "Oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Sarah, "what a 
 mincing about nothing ! You, that I'm sure never 
 stood upon trifles all your life, for all you kept 
 such a tidy name, to think of your coming out so 
 virtuous all at the end !" 
 
 Quality was sore pained, sore puzzled, but he 
 stood firm ; and Mrs. Sarah, snatching up the key 
 when she found he was in good earnest, departed
 
 358 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 
 
 in very high wrath, saying he must manage his 
 own affairs in future. She left him troubled and 
 grieved, but sure he had done right. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A WHOLE week alone is a great trial to a heart 
 that needs the support of human sympathy ; a 
 whole week idle is a great trial to one that loves 
 work, to whom employment is enjoyment and 
 leisure a burden ; and Quality Fogg, one of the 
 most dependent of mortals on the approval and 
 upholding of his fellow-men, one of the most 
 thorough ingrain workers among the busy, was 
 alone for a whole week after Mrs. Sarah Tucker 
 had gone off like a rocket in a burst of indigna- 
 tion. He had been alone for weeks together in 
 the hospital, but that state of solitariness had had 
 its alleviations, or rather diversions. To bear his 
 pain, sharp and cutting as it was, was work enough, 
 and he had at least the sad relief of seeing many 
 fellow-sufferers somewhat more grievously afflicted 
 than himself. But now, in that little room, blocked 
 up with all that had been redeemed from the ruins, 
 which, little as it was, left him scarcely space to 
 move ; with no face to see unless he went down
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 359 
 
 into the street ; enough at leisure from suffering to 
 feel his ruling passion for business, and too weak 
 to engage in any, he was, he felt, at the very bot- 
 tom of the well. 
 
 It was the seventh day ; he knew by the man 
 going round with milk, whom he watched from 
 his little window, that it must be about five o'clock. 
 He had been reading till his eyes ached, and he 
 took off his spectacles and put the Bible into the 
 drawer. 
 
 "It's too late to expect any one to-day," he 
 thought. " Another lonely night, and if I live to 
 see to-morrow, another lonely day most likely. If 
 I live to see to-morrow? True, I may die to- 
 night ; I feel very weak. I may be called away to- 
 night ; who can say ?" 
 
 This thought came on him with great force, and 
 he tried to realize it. 
 
 "The Continuing City," which Mrs. Sarah in 
 her tantrum had left behind, lay on the table. He 
 had studied it well during the week. 
 
 " Shall I go there ?" he thought. " Yes, I think, 
 I believe so. Christ died for sinners, not for the 
 righteous. But then how useless I have been ever 
 since I began to believe in him! What have I 
 done in his service? Never mind, he hath no
 
 360 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 pleasure in the strength of a man. The Lord's 
 delight is in them that fear him, and put their 
 trust in his mercy. Oh dear ! What a gospel it is ! 
 To think of poor me. A vain, foolish, selfish man 
 I have been all my life, and now I am little better 
 than a beggar ; and it may be before I can do a 
 stroke in God's service, I may be called to answer 
 for my sins. And yet there is nothing to fear. ' I 
 don't care for my good deeds ' (I might leave that 
 out), ' and I don't fear my bad deeds. Christ has 
 died, and that's my salvation !' Oh, Davy, you 
 did me a good turn when you told me those words ! 
 Poor Davy ! where is he now ? Hard at work, or, 
 it may be, being carried on a litter, wounded and 
 maimed for life ; or, it may be, dead and buried ; 
 for who would think of letting me know ? And 
 he's been very long away." 
 
 His heart beat quick at the thought. He looked 
 again at the little brown tract, and thought of the 
 continuing city, where there was neither parting 
 nor death. 
 
 " Thank God ! Blessed be God for the glorious 
 gospel !" he ejaculated. He was quite surprised at 
 himself as, after prayer for himself and Davy, and 
 all whom he could remember, for such grace as 
 they needed, he prepared to take his supper and
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 361 
 
 go to bed. He had never felt so strong in heart, 
 so calm, so restful, so satisfied. 
 
 "It is the gospel, it is believing the gospel, 
 that makes me happy, that's it," he thought. 
 " Who can help being happy that believes the 
 gospel ?" 
 
 " These people are generally quiet," he thought. 
 " How noisy they are to-night !" as he heard a con- 
 siderable amount of thumping up the narrow, angu- 
 lar staircase. 
 
 A few minutes more and he would have been in 
 bed, when a bang at the ricketty door startled him. 
 
 " What is it? what is it?" he cried, half afraid 
 of fire, which always came into his mind with any 
 sudden alarm. 
 
 "Here's a thing they've just got out of the last 
 heap of rubbitch, Master Fogg. Will you have it 
 in ?" cried the master of the house outside the door, 
 which Quality's feeble hands could not readily 
 unfasten. 
 
 "Will it stand here? What is it?" said Qual- 
 ity, looking round his straitened quarters. 
 
 " Think it's a meat-safe, by the looks of it ; but 
 one side's battered in so there's not much shape 
 about it," said the man. " I wonder they thought 
 it worth picking out, for my part."
 
 362 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 "My safe! Oh, I am glad delighted!" said 
 Quality to himself. "Now I shall know about 
 ray ledger for certain. Please to bring it in. I'll 
 make room for it," he continued aloud, opening 
 the door. 
 
 The poor old safe presented a most rueful ap- 
 pearance, crushed in on one side and covered with 
 dirt all over. 
 
 " 'T won't fetch sixpence," said the man. 
 
 " Mustn't judge of things by the outside always," 
 said Quality, in a chuckling tone. 
 
 The safe was shoved in, and the master of the 
 house declared down stairs that a man must be 
 low in the world that could rejoice over such prop- 
 erty as that. 
 
 As soon as he was alone, Quality went to work. 
 He hammered a little at the fastening; the first 
 sharp knock broke a piece of it off, it was so brittle 
 from exposure to heat. 
 
 " There they are, if they are saved !" he ex- 
 claimed, putting his arm into the hole. He worked 
 it round and round, but could feel nothing. By 
 degrees he increased the opening, and now he could 
 look in, and in the corner was a heap of cindery 
 ashes. 
 
 " Well !" he cried, after a pang of disappoint-
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 363 
 
 ment, " I wish now it had never been found. And 
 yet that's foolish enough, for then I should never 
 have been certain now I am ; and, after all, cer- 
 tainty is best. Fretting's no use, no more than these 
 ashes," he continued. " I'll go to bed. Poor old 
 ledger! is that all that's left of my work ? Well, 
 surely never was a better proof that it is but lost 
 labour to rise up early and late take rest, and eat 
 the bread of carefulness." 
 
 He was still sitting on the ground by the ruin, 
 his hands and face not improved by the dirt they 
 had come in contact with, and there was a little 
 dejection on the latter, notwithstanding his resigna- 
 tion, when the door opened at his back and a hearty 
 laugh made him look up. 
 
 " Davy ! you !" he cried, without attempting to 
 rise, he was so surprised. 
 
 "Oh, I never!" cried Davy, with another laugh. 
 "If you could only see yourself, you'd laugh 
 doubles, that you would." 
 
 "I've got nothing much to laugh at," said 
 Quality, a little affronted and pointing to the safe. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Davy, composing himself. 
 
 "It was my old ledger," said Quality, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " That !" exclaimed Davy.
 
 364 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 11 My safe : in that I put it, with all ray papers 
 the very night before the fire." 
 
 " Well, 'tis cooked, safe enough," said Davy, 
 looking in at the ashes. 
 
 "Yes; it's a pity, but it can't be helped," said 
 Quality. " I'm rather stiff, lend me a hand, there's 
 a good fellow. It won't be the first time you've 
 raised me. Oh, Davy, I've longed to see you and 
 missed you ever so, and really, now you are come, I 
 don't care a bit for anything. We'll turn out this 
 poor mess, and then you'll have room to sit." 
 
 There was a bit of looking-glass which a former 
 lodger had fixed in the window-pane ; to that Davy 
 introduced Quality, when he had helped him up, 
 and the result was a hearty laugh together. 
 
 " But it's too bad to laugh at you, for all there's 
 no helping it," said Davy. "Get your face clean, 
 and put the kettle on and make a cup of tea ; a 
 good one. I'll stand treat. I'm glad your fire's 
 in. I'm very tired. I've had a long spell to get 
 at you. I'll turn out old Shrivel;" and he went 
 to work to eject the safe. 
 
 Quality with alacrity did his part toward the 
 entertainment, Davy being struck as he did it with 
 his cheerful look and his calm, placid demeanour, 
 equally free from dejection and excitement.
 
 QUALITY FOQG'S OLD LEDGER. 365 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 QUALITY had but one chair in his room that 
 was safe ; the other two had suffered too much from 
 the flames to be useable, and were up in the corner, 
 one nursing the other in the closest packing. 
 
 "Sit on the bed, Davy," said Quality, "it's 
 most comfortable ; I'll take the chair." 
 
 So, Davy on the bed and Quality on the chair, 
 the old table being close to both, they began their 
 tea. Quality had nothing to produce but bread 
 and hard cheese, but Davy took a huge German 
 sausage from his pocket, and chopping off some 
 inches, handed it to his companion. 
 
 " Oh dear !" said Quality, breaking the skin by 
 which it dangled; "now this reminds me of old 
 days. It's a very good one, Davy, wherever you 
 got it." 
 
 "They're all exactly alike, only some's bigger 
 than others, which is a great improvement; and 
 when you take to the business again you mind to 
 keep some grown-up fellows like this for me. I 
 like a thing big enough for you to give a bit to a 
 friend." 
 
 "Heigh, Davy!" said Quality; "why, one like 
 that would serve me for a week !"
 
 366 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " You !" cried Davy, looking at him with a 
 good-humoured, half-pitying expression, " why it's 
 bigger than you if you was measured! Not likely 
 you'd finish it at once !" 
 
 Quality enjoyed the joke and laughed with him, 
 and considering the appointments of the meal, the 
 materials of it and the circumstances of the host, a 
 stranger would have said it could not really be a 
 very difficult thing to be happy. 
 
 " What a stifling place this is !" was the first 
 word of complaint, and it came from Davy. 
 
 "Stifling! it's small, but I have been very 
 thankful for the shelter while without any other 
 home," said Quality, looking round him compla- 
 cently. 
 
 "That's what we had for sermon on Sunday: 
 'Learn in whatever state I am therewith to be 
 content;' and 'seems to me, Master Fogg, you've 
 took in a bit of that kind of thing since I saw 
 you," said Davy. 
 
 " Oh, dear Davy, I don't know what I take in 
 or what I don't, only I know the Lord is very 
 good to me oh, so good ! I haven't words to say 
 how good." 
 
 " Don't want 'em," said Davy, earnestly. " Won- 
 der we could ever go on so long like fellows asleep !"
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 367 
 
 he added, striking the bedstead with his open hand 
 and looking down. 
 
 Quality, after a few more such interchanges of 
 grateful confession, told him all he had to tell, and 
 Davy highly approved of his rejecting Mrs. Sarah's 
 proposal, saying, "Above board's best, no good 
 comes of sneaking !" 
 
 " I shall get a place somewhere," said Quality. 
 
 Davy's nod of acquiescence was as good as a 
 volume of solid argument on the certainty of all 
 coming right. 
 
 " You'll come to me to-morrow ?" said Quality 
 as they parted. 
 
 " Hope so," said Davy ; " I want to see you at 
 work again. I think you'd be all right then." 
 
 "When I'm a leetle stronger," said Quality, 
 dubiously. 
 
 " Have a hand to help you," said Davy. 
 
 " It wouldn't pay, Davy," said Quality, shaking 
 his head. 
 
 " Don't know ! a good hand, straightfor'ard and 
 sharp, why not ?" said Davy. 
 
 " Where shall I find one like that?" said Quality. 
 
 " My wife," said Davy. 
 
 " Your wife ! why, I never knew you were mar- 
 ried," said Quality, surprised.
 
 368 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder ! haven't known it long my- 
 self," said Davy, laughing. 
 
 " I hope she'll be a good wife, that I do !" said 
 Quality, earnestly. 
 
 ' She's got rny best wishes that way, too," said 
 Davy, laughing. "She's wonderful at pie-making, 
 and turns out all manner of things in no time, and 
 she's as true as a line, and she's a good, real good 
 creature" his voice was a little shaken with emo- 
 tion as he said this "and I thought, if you'd be 
 agreeable, we'd all take a place together, and she 
 could help with the shop. Heigh ! what d'ye think 
 of it?" 
 
 Quality could not in a moment take in so im- 
 portant an arrangement ; he agreed to " think it 
 over," and the friends were to meet early in the 
 morning to settle the point, Davy promising to 
 bring his missus that Quality might judge by the 
 looks of her if she wasn't all that he said. 
 
 At one time such novel hopes and such mo- 
 mentous questions would have kept him wide 
 awake for hours, but in a measure he now knew 
 the wisdom of " casting all your care upon Him," 
 believing that "he careth for you." So, with a 
 brief prayer that all things might be according to 
 the will of his Father and have his blessing, he
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 369 
 
 fell asleep and dreamed of the continuing city. 
 The unusual fatigue of the evening made him sleep 
 till late, the consequence of which was his being 
 awoke by Davy's hammer on the door. 
 
 " Master Fogg ! Master Fogg ! is this your 
 manners, to keep the ladies waiting for you ?" he 
 cried. 
 
 " Oh dear, dear !" exclaimed Quality, tumbling 
 out of bed. " Davy, I can't open the door till I'm 
 ready. I didn't know you'd bring Mrs. Bowles so 
 early. Now don't knock again ; it flusters me so 
 that I can't catch hold of a single button." 
 
 " Hold on ! missus shall get in the safe to keep 
 warm ; the air's rather sharp out here," said Davy, 
 laughing. 
 
 Quality made his toilette in all possible haste 
 and arranged his room; then, opening the door, 
 bowed most politely to his visitors. 
 
 " It's a poor place, mum," he said to a fine, open- 
 countenanced young woman whom Davy intro- 
 duced as Mrs. Bowles by a significant nod, and 
 This is Kitty." 
 
 Quality said he would light the fire in a mo- 
 ment, but Davy, twirling him round, told him to 
 put on his top coat and come with them. 
 
 " We haven't had breakfast yet ; I thought we'd 
 
 24
 
 370 HICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 get some somewhere together and settle the busi- 
 ness at once. How d'ye like Kitty ?" 
 
 Quality smiled. 
 
 " You might say out now," said Davy. " I took 
 to her at first sight didn't I, Kitty? but I'd 
 heard what she was." 
 
 The trio adjourned to an eating-house hard by, 
 and the more Quality saw of Kitty, the more he 
 liked her. 
 
 " I think we should do together," he whispered 
 confidingly to Davy as they rose to leave the shop. 
 
 " Course we should," said Davy out loud ; " you 
 and she can spin a yarn about the work and that 
 and I'll go and look after a place." 
 
 " Where shall we go ?" said Quality. 
 
 " To your quarters ; there's room for two, and 
 Kitty '11 clean the safe," said Davy, laughing. 
 
 " Davy, you won't take an expensive place 
 nothing out of the way?" said Quality, a little 
 nervously. 
 
 " All right, do naught without your mind to it," 
 said Davy. 
 
 Quality and Kitty went to the little lodging, and 
 Davy went to the corner house in Swan lane and 
 asked for Mr. Luggett. 
 
 The nurse asked what he wanted with him.
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 371 
 
 " I'll let him know when I see him," said Davy, 
 coolly. 
 
 There was a "no-denial" look about him that 
 made Mrs. Thomas hesitate before saying, as she 
 intended, that Mr. Luggett did not see strangers. 
 Davy looked down at her very much as he would 
 have done at a big fence lie meant to step over. 
 
 " Go and tell him I saved his life, and I'm come 
 to see him," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas obeyed without a word, and re- 
 turned with an invitation to him to follow. 
 
 " So," said the auctioneer ; " you saved my life, 
 did you?" 
 
 " I did picked you like a blazing coal out of 
 the fire when the folks said l He's dead ; no use to 
 go after him.' " 
 
 Mr. Luggett shuddered, and passed his hand be- 
 fore his eyes. 
 
 " I think I remember you. Very tall yes. I 
 couldn't move, and a tall man lifted me ; was that 
 
 you?" 
 
 " 'Twas," said Davy. 
 
 " You never came for the reward. I offered a 
 reward when I got better," said Mr. Luggett. 
 
 " Never mind the reward. I went off another 
 road to work. I've come back with my wife and
 
 372 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 mean to put her in business, fear of anything com- 
 ing hard upon me eating-house line. I should 
 like your shop in the street here." 
 
 " The key came back yesterday. I had let it, 
 but the woman brought it back, I don't know 
 why," said Mr. Luggett. 
 
 Davy did, but it was not his business. 
 
 "What rent?" he asked. 
 
 " I should like to know a little about my ten- 
 ant," said Mr. Luggett, who was, however, affected 
 by the same feeling that had made Mrs. Thomas 
 so submissive. 
 
 " I should think you know something about 
 me," said Davy. " If I hadn't made acquaintance 
 with you that night, you'd never have had no shop 
 to let this day." 
 
 " I'm very much obliged to you, indeed," said 
 Mr. Luggett ; " and I will let you have the shop, 
 if you will give me good security for the rent." 
 
 "If we can't make the rent, we won't stop 
 there," said Davy. 
 
 A few more questions, with answers as brief 
 and decided, and Mr. Luggett felt compelled to let 
 the shop. 
 
 " Tell you all about it," said Davy. " My wife 
 knows some of the dodges of the thing ; but I
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 373 
 
 wouldn't venture on it if Master Fogg, as was 
 burnt out just after you, hadn't promised to live 
 with us ; and as his name is up in these parts, I 
 mean to put it over the door. So you see you'll 
 be pretty sure of your money." 
 
 Mr. Luggett looked black. Davy stood up 
 straight before him, and fixed his great eyes on 
 his face. Mr. Luggett pushed the key to him, and 
 said, " I let it to you, not to him. You saved my 
 life, and I can't refuse you ; but I never would 
 have let it to him." 
 
 " All right," said Davy, " you understand it ; 
 and I hope some day you'll forgive him whatever 
 he's done." 
 
 So the shop was taken, as Davy said, with " no 
 sneaking," and in an incredibly short time Quality 
 moved into it, with Davy and his wife. 
 
 It was well stocked, and Kitty's cookery, which 
 was a perfect marvel to her husband, was blazed 
 about the neighbourhood, and customers flocked 
 fast. 
 
 Mr. Grant brought a small sum, after much per- 
 severing work among the creditors, declaring that 
 he saw no chance of more, as they knew he could 
 prove nothing against them, but told Quality to 
 remember, while he regrej^cd the loss of his ledger,
 
 374 RICHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 that it was a happy illustration of his cancelled 
 sins. 
 
 Mrs. Tucker was very shy of Quality for some 
 time. She was, in addition to anger with him, 
 jealous of Davy's being able to do what she had 
 failed in, and jealous moreover of his clever wife, 
 whose reputation in "their line" threatened to 
 eclipse hers. 
 
 But time, patience and kindness worked won- 
 ders. 
 
 Quality could not make up his mind to throw 
 away his safe, and Mrs. Bowles, stipulating to be 
 allowed to clean it, allowed it a place in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " Mr. Fogg, Mr. Fogg," she cried at the inner 
 door of the shop where he was serving customers, 
 " I can't come into the shop I'm so black, but I've 
 found your books. They were all jammed down 
 between the sides of the safe that was broken in." 
 
 "My ledger? no!" exclaimed Quality. 
 
 But it was his ledger and his books, and some 
 copies of bills not sent out. 
 
 "Oh dear!" he cried, "to think of it's coming 
 to light after all !" 
 
 It was an important event to him, for Mr. Lug- 
 gett, who was one that bad held back, finding he
 
 QUALITY FOGG'S OLD LEDGER. 375 
 
 could not deny the proof that the flames had 
 spared, sent and paid the bill ; and the example 
 spread, and many others came forward and did 
 the same. 
 
 " I'll never put another entry here," said Qual- 
 ity. " I'll keep the old book as it is, to remind 
 me of things that business and ease and prosperity 
 may help me to forget ;" and the old ledger stood 
 on the shelf in a clean cover of cartridge paper, 
 with this inscription, which it cost him some labour 
 to compose : 
 
 "Once I was everything, then I was nearly 
 nothing ; now I'm a something to bring to remem- 
 brance the only true good." 
 
 Quality was fond of showing it to his visitors, 
 if he thought they would sympathize in the story, 
 and expounded with much feeling the meaning of 
 the sentiment, giving a history of the change which 
 God by a series of providences, sanctifying them 
 by his Spirit, had wrought in his heart. 
 
 Mr. Luggett never meant to forgive him, but he 
 did at last, and there were those who hoped his 
 unfailing kindness and attention to him were pro- 
 ductive of the happiest results. As to Mrs. Sarah, 
 she said wonders would never cease when she 
 found the old man being wheeled down to the shop
 
 376 ETCHES WITHOUT WINGS. 
 
 to eat a few fresh oysters which Davy had brought, 
 home from one of his expeditions. 
 
 She also found her end in the friendship of that 
 godly family, and not only she, but others; for 
 if one sinner destroys much good, yet the love of 
 Christ, even in the weakest vessels, is mighty 
 through God to the pulling down of the strong- 
 holds of the evil one. 
 
 THE END.
 
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