Children's Literature Part 139

The young man put his hand to his right eye, which was covered with a huge black patch.

Ben asked what _accident_ he meant; and the lad told him that, a few weeks ago, he had lost the sight of his eye by the stroke of a stone, which reached him as he was pa.s.sing under the rocks of Clifton, unluckily, when the workmen were blasting.

"I don't mind so much for myself, Sir," said the lad; "but I can't work so well now, as I used to do before my accident, for my old mother, who has had a stroke of the palsy; and I've a many little brothers and sisters, not well able yet to get their own livelihood, though they be as willing, as willing can be."

"Where does your mother live?" said Mr. Gresham.

"Hard by, Sir, just close to the church here: it was _her_ that always had the showing of it to strangers, till she lost the use of her poor limbs."

"Shall we, may we, go that way?--This is the house: is it not?" said Ben, when they went out of the cathedral.

They went into the house: it was rather a hovel than a house; but, poor as it was, it was as neat as misery could make it.

The old woman was sitting up in her wretched bed, winding worsted; four meager, ill-clothed, pale children were all busy, some of them sticking pins in paper for the pin-maker, and others sorting rags for the paper-maker.

"What a horrid place it is!" said Hal, sighing; "I did not know there were such shocking places in the world. I've often seen terrible-looking, tumble-down places, as we drove through the town in Mamma's carriage; but then I did not know who lived in them; and I never saw the inside of any of them. It is very dreadful, indeed, to think that people are forced to live in this way. I wish Mamma would send me some more pocket-money, that I might do something for them. I had half-a-crown; but," continued he, feeling in his pockets, "I'm afraid I spent the last s.h.i.+lling of it this morning, upon those cakes that made me sick. I wish I had my s.h.i.+lling now, I'd give it to _these poor people_."

Ben, though he was all this time silent, was as sorry as his talkative cousin, for all these poor people. But there was some difference between the sorrow of these two boys.

Hal, after he was again seated in the hackney-coach, and had rattled through the busy streets of Bristol for a few minutes, quite forgot the spectacle of misery which he had seen; and the gay shops in Wine-street, and the idea of his green and white uniform, wholly occupied his imagination.

"Now for our uniforms!" cried he, as he jumped eagerly out of the coach, when his uncle stopped at the woolen-draper's door.

"Uncle," said Ben, stopping Mr. Gresham before he got out of the carriage, "I don't think a uniform is at all necessary for me. I'm very much obliged to you, but I would rather not have one. I have a very good coat--and I think it would be waste."

"Well, let me out of the carriage and we will see about it," said Mr.

Gresham "perhaps the sight of the beautiful green and white cloth, and the epaulettes (have you ever considered the epaulettes?) may tempt you to change your mind."

"Oh, no," said Ben, laughing; "I shall not change my mind."

The green cloth, and the white cloth, and the epaulettes, were produced, to Hal's infinite satisfaction. His uncle took up a pen, and calculated for a few minutes; then, showing the back of the letter, upon which he was writing, to his nephews, "Cast up these sums, boys," said he, "and tell me whether I am right."

"Ben, do you do it," said Hal, a little embarra.s.sed; "I am not quick at figures."

Ben _was_, and he went over his uncle's calculation very expeditiously.

"It is right, is it?" said Mr. Gresham.

"Yes, Sir, quite right."

"Then by this calculation, I find I could for less than half the money your uniforms would cost, purchase for each of you boys a warm great-coat, which you will want, I have a notion, this winter upon the Downs."

"Oh, Sir," said Hal, with an alarmed look; "but it is not winter _yet_; it is not cold weather yet. We sha'n't want great-coats _yet_."

"Don't you remember how cold we were, Hal, the day before yesterday, in that sharp wind, when we were flying our kite upon the Downs?--and winter will come, though it is not come yet; I am sure, I should like to have a good warm great-coat very much," said Ben.

Mr. Gresham took six guineas out of his purse; and he placed three of them before Hal, and three before Ben.

"Young gentlemen," said he, "I believe your uniforms would come to about three guineas apiece. Now I will lay out this money for you just as you please: Hal, what say you?"

"Why, Sir," said Hal, "a great-coat is a good thing, to be sure; and then, after the great-coat, as you said it would only cost half as much as the uniform, there would be some money to spare, would not there?"

"Yes, my dear, about five-and-twenty s.h.i.+llings."

"Five-and-twenty s.h.i.+llings! I could buy and do a great many things, to be sure, with five-and-twenty s.h.i.+llings; but then, _the thing is_, I must go without the uniform, if I have the great-coat."

"Certainly," said his uncle.

"Ah!" said Hal, sighing as he looked at the epaulettes, "Uncle, if you would not be displeased if I choose the uniform--"

"I shall not be displeased at your choosing whatever you like best,"

said Mr. Gresham.

"Well, then, thank you, Sir, I think I had better have the uniform, because if I have not the uniform now directly it will be of no use to me, as the archery meeting is the week after next, you know; and as to the great-coat, perhaps, between this time and the _very_ cold weather, which, perhaps, won't be till Christmas, Papa will buy a great-coat for me; and I'll ask Mamma to give me some pocket-money to give away, and she will perhaps."

To all this conclusive conditional reasoning, which depended upon _perhaps_, three times repeated, Mr. Gresham made no reply; but he immediately bought the uniform for Hal, and desired that it should be sent to Lady Diana Sweepstakes' sons' tailor, to be made up. The measure of Hal's happiness was now complete.

"And how am I to lay out the three guineas for you, Ben?" said Mr.

Gresham. "Speak, what do you wish for first?"

"A great-coat, Uncle, if you please."

Mr. Gresham bought the coat; and after it was paid for, five-and-twenty s.h.i.+llings of Ben's three guineas remained.

"What's next, my boy?" said his uncle.

"Arrows, Uncle, if you please: three arrows."

"My dear, I promised you a bow and arrows."

"No, Uncle, you only said a bow."

"Well, I meant a bow and arrows. I'm glad you are so exact, however. It is better to claim less than more than what is promised. The three arrows you shall have. But go on: how shall I dispose of these five-and-twenty s.h.i.+llings for you?"

"In clothes, if you will be so good, Uncle, for that poor boy, who has the great black patch on his eye."

"I always believed," said Mr. Gresham, shaking hands with Ben, "that economy and generosity were the best friends, instead of being enemies, as some silly, extravagant people would have us think them. Choose the poor blind boy's coat, my dear nephew, and pay for it. There's no occasion for my praising you about the matter; your best reward is in your own mind, child; and you want no other, or I'm mistaken. Now jump into the coach, boys, and let's be off. We shall be late, I'm afraid,"

continued he, as the coach drove on; "but I must let you stop, Ben, with your goods, at the poor boy's door."

When they came to the house, Mr. Gresham opened the coach door, and Ben jumped out with his parcel under his arm.

"Stay, stay! you must take me with you," said his pleased uncle; "I like to see people made happy as well as you do."

"And so do I too!" said Hal; "let me come with you. I almost wish my uniform was not gone to the tailor's, so I do."

And when he saw the look of delight and grat.i.tude with which the poor boy received the clothes which Ben gave him; and when he heard the mother and children thank him, Hal sighed, and said, "Well, I hope Mamma will give me some more pocket-money soon."

Upon his return home, however, the sight of the _famous_ bow and arrow which Lady Diana Sweepstakes had sent him, recalled to his imagination all the joys of his green and white uniform; and he no longer wished that it had not been sent to the tailor's.