Calvinist, crammed to the throat with doctrine, but with neither head nor heart. Her childrenand she had eight-were all the same to her; the girls went out and kept schools, and the boys went into the world to sink or swim, as their father had before them. They had all been decently clothed and fed up to a certain age; they had all had the same meaningless education; they had all sat under the same minister, and had served as teachers in the same Sunday-school. They were all, with the exception of Tom, cold, hard, selfish, and calculating; there was nothing like love amongst them; its place was supplied by a propriety of regard that was regulated by the principle of duty. Though poor Tom, with his half-blind eyes, and general physical disadvantages, merited a treatment a little removed from the rigid equality which governed his parents in their family organisation, he never met with it; he was one of the eight, and he had his eighth of attention, neither more nor less. His mental training was even below the level of his brothers and sisters, because the medical attendance consequent upon his diseased eyes took from the fund that was methodically set aside for his education. If, as was the case in the year when he underwent an operation, the surgical expenses swallowed up the educational fund, and something more, his clothes fund was debited with the difference, and he suffered for his bodily failings in a short supply of boots and hats. The father kept a book in which he had opened debtor and creditor accounts with all his children, as if they had been so many mercantile vessels. When Tom had arrived at the same age as his brothers had arrived at when they went out before him, he received the same hint that it was time that he sought for a means of obtaining a livelihood; and feeling his own short-comings and want of energy, he accepted the offer of a chapel connection, and quietly sank into the position at the school in which I found him. Poor Tom's personal appearance gave rise to all kinds of heartless jokes, such as only self-willed, thoughtless schoolboys make. His eye-glasses were always a fruitful source of amusement. Many a lad in all the full glow of health has tried to break those green coverings, to see what kind of eyes were concealed behind them. Tom bore all with wonderful patience and amiability of temper. He had small authority over the boys, for want of force of character; but his uniform kindness did a great deal, and many a little tormentor has shed bitter tears of remorse, when he found the way in which his annoyance was returned. Tom's income was exceedingly small, far under the average of ushers' stipends; but he was very careful and independent with it. Once away from home, he sought for no assistance there; and, by great economy and self-denial, he was always able to indulge in the luxury of buying little presents for his favourites in the school. One day, shortly after the Midsummer holidays, Tom appeared in what looked like a new coat, but which, he told me privately, was a very good second-hand one, that he had been some time raising the purchase-money for. It was the day for cleaning and replenishing all the inkstands and lamps in the school, and this was a duty Tom had to perform. While occupied in his task, his coat was carefully hung up behind a dcor, though not so carefully but what it caught the eye of a mischievous lad, whose name I forget now, and who, knowing that it was a new garment belonging to Tom, thought it would be capital fun to fill the pockets with oil. When Tom found out the cruel trick that had been played upon him, I observed tears oozing from under his green spectacles, and, for the first time since he had been at the school, he made a complaint to the master. The master, a stout, pompous man, replied in these words, "Mr. Craddock, sir, if you had preserved a proper authority over my boys, this event would not have happened. I shall chastise the offender to preserve the discipline of my school; but, at the same time, I do not consider you free from blame." The chastisement, to do the master justice, was severe enough, and poor Tom seeing this blamed himself very much for having made the complaint, and could not persuade himself that he had not been actuated by a hasty and unchristian revenge. Tom repaired the damage done to his garment as well as he could, with my aid, and would have walked about in it contented enough; but he had been induced to buy the coat sooner than he would otherwise have done because the master had told him that "he wished him to appear a little more gentlemanly, for the credit of the school," and Tom now feared that he should be ordered to purchase another. A favourite relaxation of the tedium of study used to be an excursion of the whole school to the Temple Mills, at Tottenham. An excursion of this kind took place about a week after the above occurrence, and Tom was put quite at his ease when we started without any remark being made upon his greasy costume. It was the last excursion we had, for at the close of the day a boy got away from the ranks-the boy who had poured the oil over Tom's coat-and was found drowned in the river Lea. Of course the master, who had done nothing but eat and lounge the whole day, threw all the blame upon Tom, who, poor fellow, was nearly worn to death with his day's work: for, in a conscientious spirit, that no one might suffer from his bodily defects, he always devoted a double amount of labour to any task that he undertook. He passed a wretched night, grieving for the lost boy, grieving that he had caused him any pain by the punishment that he had procured him a week POOR TOM.-A CITY WEED. before, and racking himself with doubts as to whether he might not have prevented the accident by greater care, activity, and thoughtfulness, although I knew that he had borne nearly the whole fatigue of the excursion. As I expected, the master discharged him the next morning, with an impressive censure upon his carelessness, and some cruel remarks upon defects which poor Tom was only too painfully conscious of. It was some ten years after this that I got poor Tom a situation as junior clerk, under me, in the counting-house of Biddles and Co.-old Biddlesin the West India trade. Tom's father had died shortly after he had left the school at Hackney, and Tom had come into one of a number of small legacies, which his father had left in equal proportions to all his children. Tom received the amount from his eldest brother, the executor, after a deduction of about one-third, for loans and interest, medical attendance, &c., as per account rendered, from the family ledger before alluded to. Small as the sum was, to a person of Tom's humble ideas and inexpensive tastes, it was a mine of wealth. By great good management he contrived to live upon it for nearly ten years, and it was almost drawing to an end when I seized the opportunity that offered of placing him in our counting-house. Tom had not been idle during these ten years. He had inserted advertisements in the papers, he had canvassed friends, he had walked many times wearily and diffidently into offices and warehouses, he had begged to be employed; but his conscientious fidelity, his industrious zeal, his noble and valuable qualities, were sent away as if they had been the veriest drug in the market, because he could not carry his heart upon his sleeve. And yet no sooner had he left the door than those who spurned him were loudly asking for that which had just been offered to them in vain. It is useless to preach about not judging by appearances-to say that merit will make itself discovered under the most ungainly exterior, and that if the kernel be good it matters little what the shell may be-I know better, we all know better. Qualities of the heart, far more valuable than any intellectual gifts, or force of will, embodied in weak and unsightly frames, may hover near us, like unseen angels, and be unheeded, trifled with, doubted, and despised. The brazen face and the strong lungs are the practical rulers of the world. During Tom's endeavours to get employment he had lost twenty pounds of his little store, by leaving it as a "cash deposit," or "guarantee of fidelity," with a "general merchant," who left him in charge of a very dull, quiet, ill-furnished office for about ten days, at the end of which time even Tom became aware that he had been swindled out of his money. 119 I got poor Tom into old Biddles' office in this way. Old B. liked to buy his labour, like everything else, in the cheapest market, and when a new junior clerk was proposed, I introduced Tom to do a man's work at a boy's price, and that way of putting it so excited the cupidity of the old fellow that I had the satisfaction of carrying my point at once. Small as the salary was, Tom was grateful, and never did servant serve a master with more honesty and scrupulous fidelity than Tom did old Biddles. Punctual to a second in arriving at his desk, steady and industrious in his application to work, religiously exact in his economy of time (which being paid for employing he did not con. sider his own), considerate and correct in all matters of office expenditure, treating other people's property as tenderly as if it had been his own-a man with few desires, no debts, and with always a little set aside out of his small store for purposes of charity. What did he gain by all these virtues ? Was Tom looked up to with more respect by his fellow-clerks? I am afraid not. Was he advanced to any position of trust by his employer? I am sure not. He was treated with even more than the general suspicion that characterised old Biddles' dealings with every one in business-friend or foe, clerk or client. Tom did not command admiration by any showy abilities, and his solid virtues were left to rot in neglect. 66 Thus poor Tom did his duty nobly, from year to year, without any encouragement, though he needed none; a poor, simple-hearted, honest fellow, he had no idea that he was acting differently from other people. "You know, Robert," he used to say to me, we are not all gifted with talent. I feel that I am neither active nor clever; but I do my best, and I hope Mr. Biddles is satisfied, though I sometimes fear that he is not." This remark was generally made after one of those miserable, wet, busy, muddy November days, when Tom was kept running about from nine to six, under a short faded mackintosh cape, and when old Biddles was more than usually surly. We passed in this way something like five years together, until I had a serious attack of illness that kept me away from my office for many weeks. Tom, after the labour of the day, seldom missed calling to inquire about me, long as the distance was, and very often brought me little delicacies suited for an invalid. I could not prevent his bringing them, although I felt that their purchase must have pinched him in various ways. When I returned re-invigorated to my duties, I found, to my surprise, a marked change in Tom. His manner was evidently embarrassed, and in his appearance there was a feeble and clumsy attempt to be buckish. When a man returns to an office after an absence of some months, everything seems to him cold and strange; he does not fit into his even a greater reward, I told him to go boldly to old Biddles and ask at once. It was Saturday morning; old Biddles was very late, and when he came, he was very busy; he went out several times, a very unusual thing with him, and when he returned, many people were waiting to see him. All this threw poor Tom into a fever of excitement; he kept running in and out of Biddles' private room in such an unceremonious manner, and upon such frivolous pretexts, that at last the old fellow asked him if he was ill? This brought Tom to a stand, and he timidly made his proposal. Old Biddles took time to consider. Tom augured favourably from this, and the next day he prevailed upon me to join him in a visit to the family of his intended wife. accustomed corners, his papers look spectral, he hardly knows where to put his coat, and his hat tumbles down from its peg. I did not question Tom the first or second day, as I thought much of his altered appearance might have been a partial delusion of my disordered imagination. On the third day I fancied, from his nervous behaviour, that he was about to make some explanatory disclosure, and I was not disappointed. After much hesitation and preamble, which he, poor fellow, was little adept in, it came out at last: Tom was in lovedeeply, earnestly in love. When he had secured me as his confidant, a load seemed to have departed from his mind, and he was happier and gayer than I had ever known him before. As to myself, I was lost in various reflections. I laughed the first and last unkind laugh at Tom's expense, when I thought of him ogling his chosen one through those eternal green glasses. I wondered if the strong olive tint which her face of necessity bore, stood to Tom as the rose upon the damask cheek of beauty seen through the naked eye. Did he kiss those taper fingers, which must have appeared to him as if they were fresh from the dye-tub, or the task of walnut-picking? Did nature, which had appeared to his faint vision for so many years a gloomy picture clad in one solemn tint, brighten up with a more cheerful glow, now that this new light had fallen on his heart? Poor Tom! when I looked at him sitting there before me, his awk-ready to give up all the comforts he so much needed, ward shape and disfigured countenance, I dreaded lest his choice should have fallen upon some thoughtless, selfish girl, and felt a foreboding that his passion would only end in misery and bitter disappointment. Tom was too happy to notice my abstraction, and his only desire was to consult me about the capabilities of his scanty income to support a wife. Here, with hard figures to deal with, I was obliged to reason severely, but every objection that I started was overruled by Tom's explanation of the personal privations he could undergo for the attainment of domestic happiness. It was needless for him to enter into details with me, who knew his qualities so well, to prove what a considerate, devoted husband he would be. I knew that his income was inadequate, and the tone of my advice was to dissuade him from nourishing an affection that, I felt assured, must be hopeless. The next morning, poor Tom appeared with a long list of figures, with which he had been working out a problem over-night, and had arrived at the conclusion, that if he could obtain another twenty pounds a-year from old Biddles, he might attempt the step he was anxious to take with perfect propriety. When he consulted me as to whether I thought he would get the advance, I felt that his mind was made up; and knowing that his long and faithful services merited She was much younger than Tom, stout, florid, and rather vulgar-looking. I watched her closely, and her treatment of him, though at times flighty and inconsiderate, did not appear unkind. Tom was so absorbed in the contemplation of his happiness, that I was left pretty much to my own resources, and conversation with a sister. When the visit closed, although I had my doubts, I was unable to form a conclusion whether the affection on the part of the girl was real or simulated. Monday passed over in silence; on Tuesday the blow fell. About ten o'clock a letter was delivered to Tom, which told him that she for whom he was for whom he was even then planning out some little, thoughtful present, and to whom he had given all the great affection of his kind and noble heart, had encouraged his passion like a cruel, wayward girl, and now threw it aside without pity or remorse. Close upon this shock followed a formal discharge from old Biddles. He had weighed Tom's proposal. Virtue and fidelity, which were endurable at fifty pounds a-year, were not to be tolerated at seventy. The supply was greater than the demand. Biddies was a practical, business man. Some few years afterwards, when poor Tom's shattered frame and broken heart were lying peaceably in the grave, and his clerkly suc cessor at forty pounds a-year had embezzled money to a considerable extent, old Biddles felt that for once he had made a mistake, and thought of an awkward, green-spectacled clerk who used to sit in his office, and who, if not brilliant, was trustworthy. "Do you know Craddock's address ?" he asked, one morning, as I entered the room. "He has been dead some time," I replied. "Hum! Put an advertisement in the Times for somebody like him." We did put an advertisement in the Times for somebody like him; but old Biddles found he could not get another Tom Craddock merely by drawing a cheque for him. To drive the deer with hound and horse Earl Percy took his way; The child may rue that is unborn The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase Who sent Earl Percy present word With fifteen hundred bowmen bold; The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran, And, long before high noon, they had Then, having dined, the drovers went The bowmen muster'd on the hills, Their backsides all, with special care, The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, And with their cries the hills and dales An echo shrill did make. Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the slaughter'd deer: "If that I thought he would not come, "Lo! yonder doth Earl Douglas come, His men in armour bright; Full twenty hundred Scottish spears 66 All marching in our sight; All men of pleasant Tividale, Fast by the river Tweed." "Then cease your sport," Earl Percy said, "That ever did on horseback come, I durst encounter, man for man, Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed, Rode foremost of the company, Whose armour shone like gold: "Show me," said he, "whose men you be, The man that first did answer make, Who said, "We list not to declare, "Yet will we spend our dearest blood, "Ere thus I will out-braved be, I know thee well; an earl thou art, "But trust me Percy; pity it were, And great offence, to kill "Let thou and I the battle try, Then stepp'd a gallant 'squire forth, 121 "That e'er my captain fought on foot, And I stood looking on: You be two earls," said Witherington, "And I a 'squire alone: "I'll do the best that do I may, While I have strength to stand: Full threescore Scots they slew. To drive the deer with hound and horn, They clos'd full fast on ev'ry side, Lay gasping on the ground. Oh me! it was a grief to see, And likewise for to hear And scatter'd here and there. At last these two stout earls did meet, They fought until they both did sweat, "Yield thee, Lord Percy!" Douglas said; In faith I will thee bring Where thou shalt high advanced be By James our Scottish king. "Thy ransom I will freely give, And thus report of thee: Thou art the most courageous knight That ever I did sec." Then leaving life, Earl Percy took "Alack! my very heart doth bleed A knight amongst the Scots there was, Sir Hugh Montgomery was he call'd; Ran fiercely through the fight: And pass'd the English archers all, With such a vehement force and might So thus did both these nobles die, He had a bow bent in his hand, An arrow of a cloth-yard long Against Sir Hugh Montgomery So right the shaft he set, The grey goose wing that was thereon This fight did last from break of day For when they rung the evening bell With the Earl Percy there was slain Sir Robert Ratcliffe, and Sir John, And with Sir George, and good Sir James, For Witherington needs must I wail, |