Newspapers / The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, … / Aug. 23, 1876, edition 1 / Page 1
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VOLUME IL xfiii: isijAR’Kags. Tlie reapers bond their lusty baebs, Tlioir sounding sickles sway ; At every stroke the golden sea Recedes to give tlieni way; The heavy ears fall bowing down, And nestled at their feet. •Such will, such work as theirs, perforce, Must win—must homage meet. So careless of fatigue they go, So true, so steadily. The admiring traveler on the road Leans o’er the gate to sec ; With Marvel of the soon-fallen breadth. The lounging gossips tell; 13ut tlie reapers labor ftir us all, ’Tifc need they should work well. Ere the great sun that burns above Shall crimson in the West, And the childrens’ poppy nosegays fade, And they lie down to rest. Each golden spear that upward points Shall fall upon the field. And the farmer drain a sparkling glass, Rejoicing o’er the yield. Ply, bonny men, your sickles bright. And give the people hi-oad ! At every conquering stride you take. On want and woe you tread, Drop heavy ears, and give the strength You gatheretl from this plain, That man may rise refreshed and firm, And do great things again. God bless the hands all hard and brown, That guide the cleaving plow, That cast abroad the shining seed, And build the wcaltliy mow ; They rear the bread our children cat, ’Tis by their toil we Jive, Hurrah ! give them the loudest cheer That graceful hearts can give ! TWOPlEi?«'€E A OAY A1VE> WSIAX IX’ ACC©351'L5SME». •Tosoph Gurney had worked for the same masters some three or four years, and his wages, though small, not exceeding eighteen shillings a week, were regularly ])aid summer and winter alike; so, as ho often told his wife, when she was inclined to grumble at the smallness of tlie sum, tliey were better olT than some of their neighbors, who, receiving higher wages in one part of the. year, were often thrown out of employment altogether when the slack time came. In fact, Joseph Gurney cultivated a contented mind, and, as the wise man long ago pre dicted, he found it “ a continual feast.” The dinner-bell sounded at one o’clock ; and Joo had just commenced his simple meal of bread and cheese and a mug of beer, wlien the senior partner in the firm came along, and stopped to say a few words to him. ‘Well, Gurney, so you have a son and heir I hear,’ he remarked, in the easy, good-natured manner which had won him a well-deserved poinilarity throughout the factory. Joseph rose and touched his cap respectfully : ‘ Yes, sir, thank you, and a fine hearty boy he is too.’ ‘ I am glad to bear it. I hope ho will grow up to be a comfort both to you and his mother; we shall find him a corner here, I dare.sa}^, when j’-ou’ll be bringing him along to work.’ ‘ That’s what I thought, sir, but Martha, my wife, she says, ‘Ap prentice him to a good trade; but then, sir, where is the money to come from for that sort of thing 1’ ‘Save it from that,’ said the master good humoredly, j^et seri ously, pointing with his walking- stick to the mug of beer on the table by Joseph’s side. The man’s color rose. ‘ I am not a drinking man, sir,’ ho said somewhat angrily. ‘ I’ts only a pint of beer I get with my dia ller, none with supper, nor yet on Sunday—it’s but twopence a day I spend on drink.’ ‘ Stay, my friend,’ interposed Mr. Baker, kindljc ‘ I know you are not a drinking man; you have now been 'vith us nearly four j’ears without our having found out that a workman more sober and trust-worthy than Joseph Gurney is not employed in our factor}'; still, could you make up j'our mind to do without your daily pint, only ‘twopence a day’ as it may cost you, you would find that by the time your boy is grown old enough to learn a trade, the money to apprentice him would be in your possession. I will leave you this to think about at your leisure; in tlie meanwhile give this trifle to your wife,' with my congratulations and best wishes for the future prosperity of her son,’ and sliji- ping five shillings into the man’s hand the good master passed on. Mr. Baker had only spoken the truth when he said Joseph Gur ney was a sober man. He bad never been seen the worse for li quor in his life; the single pint of beer, which he considered necessary to keep up his strength on- worliing days, was truly all ho allowed himself. Mai'tha Gurnev could never remember a week, during the wliole of her married life, when more than tlie weekly shilling liad been deducted for her good man's din' e '-beer from the ivages vdiich he regularly brought home to her every Sat urday night. But Mr. Baker’s idea, that two pence a day would in time grow into a luindsomc sum, had never before occurred to the simple mind of Joe Gurne)'; and all that altenioon be pondered on his niastei’s words, till at last, throwing dowm liis tools, he seized a piece of chalk, and be- n making mysterious-looking figures on tlie tvall of the factory. Joseph had, as he liiinself ex pressed it, ‘ received no eddica- tion,’ but he had a rough method of his own of making calculations, and the result of his present one appeared considerably to astonish him. He scratched his head, pondered a little longer, tried again and again, but always with the same result; and when he laid down the lump of chalk and resumed his work, his lesolution was taken. The next Saturday night, the sliilling, though deduced as usual from his wages, did not go to pay a weekly score at Red Lion’s Inn ; it was carried in Joseph’s pocket to another and quite different des tination. Weeks, months, and years passed on, and the little Samuel grew in mind, an active, healthy, persevering lad ; carefully train ed and educated to the best of their ability by the fond parents, whose only child he bad continu ed to be. Joseph had kept the promise made on the day of tlio boy’s birth, that he should have a good education; and at eleven, young Samuel was a fair scholar, sharp, shrewd, intelligent, and fond of learning; his progress in the acquirement of knowledge was a source of continual won derment to Ills siraple-mlmled father, wlio, sitting by the fire side of an evening, never tired of hearing the boy con over his next day’s lessons, or read aloud from some iiiterestiug book, borroved from the school library. But at eleven .yeais of age, his father decided that Samuel, hearty and strong as maiiy a much older lad, must begin to do something for himself towards his own support, and accordingly a place as er rand-boy in a respectable grocer’s shop w'as soon secured. Joseph accepted of bis son a somewhat smaller weekly sum than usual, in consideration that he should be allowed four evenings in the -week to leave work in time to attend an evening school in the neighbor hood. This arrangement, indeed, seemed quite unnecessary ir. the eyes of the fond mother, wdio considered her son a finished scholar; but Joseph, having his own opinion on the matter, over ruled her objections, and gained the day. The boy’s uniform good con duct and steadiness soon gained the confidence of his master, and for neatly two years be continued in Mr. Morton’s sliop. It wanted only two or three days to Samuel’s tiiirteenth birth day, when one evening lie came in from his day’s work v/ith a cloud on his unusually bright, good-tempered face. ‘ Father, said he, as ho hung up his cap on its nail, ‘ Mr. Mor ton thinks I had better letive him.’ ‘ Wliat’s that for?’ replied his father, in a startled tone. ‘ Plave }'OU been up to any miscliief, lad ?’ ‘ No, indeed, father; master saj's lie’ll give me a good charac ter to any one,’ and the boy drew himself up proudly as lie spoke, ‘ but he says I’m too old and big for errand-boy now—I ouglit to bo doing something better for myself noiv. He saj's he’ll be sorry for me to go, but ho won’t stand in my way. He wants an apprentice, though : I know he’d take me, but that can’t be—I know that;’ and a tear or two stood in the boy’s eye, which he was too manly to let drop. ‘ Wh-v' can’t it be ?’ inquired his mother, looking np from the iron ing in which she w'as engaged. ‘ Why, mother, ho says he can’t take less than ton pounds ivith ail apprentice; mostly ho gets more than that—but where could vve got that from V The good woman sighed. Often had lier boy’s future troubled her, and she bad tried, by taking in washing and ironing, to lay by a little sum towaids the fulfilment of her darling wish, ‘ to appren tice him to a good trade ;’ but ill health had prevented much extra exertion, and frequent illness had swallowed up her little earnings. ‘ Would you like to be appren ticed to Mr. Morton, Sam?’ in quired his father. ‘ Indeed I should, father; bet ter than anything else.’ ‘ Better than the factory f ‘ I hate the factory,’ said the boy, excitedly. ‘ I’d rather’—■ ‘Gently, my lad; you’ve al ways been a good, obedient boy, and if I bid you come along to the factory to work, you’ll come. But,’ ho added, seeing the boy was about to answer, ‘ don’t say any more on the matter now; Tluirsday’ll bo your birthday: you’ll bo thirteen then; quite time you were something Irettor than an errand-boy, I think. When you come liomo to supper directly after work, we’ll talk it over; you needn’t go to work that night I suppose.’ ‘ But, father,’ urged the boy, ‘ if I can find another place with better wages than Mr. Morton’s, I needn’t go to the factory, need X ‘Well, you can look out if you’ve a mind. And now your mother and I are waiting to know the end of that story you were reading last night; make liaste, and let us hear it the poor colliers ever got out of the pit alive.’ Thursday night came and Jos eph, much to his wife’s surprise, was nearly an hour after his us ual time. Samuel was home, the tea ready set, and the kettle sing ing on the fire, when he made his appearance. How cosy and com fortable the little kitchen looked, so clean and bright, and the good wife in her usual neat trim, wait ing to receive him. A currant cake was on the table, made by the fond mother as a special trib ute to Sam’s birthday.’ ‘ You’re late to-night, my man,’ she said, as her husband took liis seat by the fire, and warmed his hands by the cheerful blaze, for the cold east wind howling out side made the weather almost as severe as the middle of winter. ‘Yes, Tm late, sure enough,’he said cheerfully, as he took the tempting cup of hot tea from her hands. ‘Well, Sam, my boy, liow about finding anotlier place ? You know we were to talk about it to-night.’ ‘I haven’t, lieard of one,’ said the boy moodily; ‘I’ve inquired everywhere.’ ‘Well,’ returned Joseph, with a curious twinkle in his eye, which certainly did not express much sympathy with his son’s evident disappointment, ‘then, I suppose You’ll be walking along with mo to the factory on Monday;. there’s a berth for you there with five shillings a week.’ ‘Mtisf I, father?’ ‘Must you, lad ! What’s good enough for your father is good enough for you.’ The boy did not answer ; his disappointment was too deep to be expressed in words; while his mother, stooping over him, gave him a sympathizing kiss, and whispiered to him to ‘be a good boy, and not vex father.’ ‘I looked in at Mr. Morton’s as I came along,’ pureued Joseph. ‘He’s got an apprentice lad, I find. Do you know who it is, Sam ?’ ‘No, father?’ ‘It’s a friend of yours, I hear. Can you guess who it is Sam looked up quickly ; ‘Is it John Jackson, father ? He was in to see Mr. Morton to-day.’ ‘No, Sam. Guess again.’ ‘I can’t tell you,’ said the boy disconsolately; ‘it makes no difference to me.’ ‘Makes no difference to you ! Well, then, I’ll tell you, my boy, it is you !’ . ‘Father!’ ‘Yes, it is you! And here’s the money, almost roared Joseph is his exultation and deliglit. ‘Count it, my lad : it’s all yours ; and there’s more than enough to apprentice you, I, reckon ;’ and he tossed on the table a little can vas bag. Sam seized it eagerly, and turned out the contents—bright sovereigns and a few shillings. It was a pleasant picture ; the proud happy father—-the eager, excited boy—-tlie loving wife and fond mother, standing with clasp ed hands, looking from one to the other with a fa ;e expressing the utmost astonishment. It was the moment to which Joseph Gurney had been iooliing forward for years. ‘Thirtj'-three pounds, sixteen shillings !' exclaimed Samuel, as he rapidh^ counted over tlie glittering coins. ‘Father, what does it all mean ? Did you say it was mine V ‘Every penny of it, my lad,’ replied the happy father ; draw- his wife closer to him, and laving his hand fondly on the boy’s shoulder, be proceeded to narrate to them in his own simple wav the interview he bad liad with his master on the day following Samuel’s birth, and the impress ion his words had made upon him. Then followed tlie history of the chalk calculation on the factory wall, and the surprise which the result of it occasioned. ‘I saw then,’ added Josepli in conclusion, ‘that a little sacrifice on my part would leave money to give you a good trade when you should be grown big enough. I resolved to give up my beer, and say notliing about it, and I’ve never bad a drop from that day to this. I’ve always kept a shill ing from my week’s wages as usual, but it didn’t go to the Red J.fion, as before ; it went to Mr. Baker’s, and lie put it in this bag, and bo’s kept the money for me ever since. You’ve alwa^'s been a good, obedient boy to me and your mother, so tlie money’s yours, my lad. Ten pounds I shall pay to Mr. Morton to-mor row when your articles are made out; you shall have a new suit of clothes too, and the rest of the monej^ shall go in the bank in your name, and pleased God it I live so long, you shall still have the twopence a day till you’re out of your time, and then, Samule, there’ll bo a nice little sum to start for yourself with. So God bless you, my lad, and may you be a good, useful man ; that’s all I want of you in re turn.’ The boy foirly, sobbed as lie throw himself into his father’s arms. ‘Father,’ he said as soon as ho could speak, ‘I can’t thank you now as I ought, but I pi-om- ise you you shall never be sorry 3mu gave up your beer for me. God lielp me, I will be all you want me to be ; and if I turn out as good a man as my father, mother and I will be quite con tent.’ And the boy kept Ids promise. And now that over a handsome shop-front appears the name of ‘Samuel Gurney, grocer,’ he, a thriving, prosperous man often gathers his children around his knee, and tells them the story of his early life,how liis self-denying lather builtj up for him present prosperity on toe toundation stone of ‘Tirvimucs u Day.’— Chamber s livadtiiy ISoo/c.
The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Aug. 23, 1876, edition 1
1
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