CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
THE DOMINIE READS ME A SERMON OUT OF THE LARGEST BOOK I EVER FELL INWITH, COVERING NEARLY TWO ACRES OF GROUND--THE PAGES NOT VERY EASY TOTURN OVER, BUT THE TYPE VERY CONVENIENT TO READ WITHOUT SPECTACLES--HELEAVES OFF WITHOUT SHUTTING HIS BOOK, AS PARSONS USUALLY DO AT THE ENDOF THEIR SERMONS.
The next day being Sunday, as usual I went to see the Dominie and MrTurnbull. I arrived at the school just as all the boys were filing off,two and two, for church, the advance led by the usher, and the rearbrought up by the Dominie in person, and I accompanied them. TheDominie appeared melancholy and out of spirits--hardly exchanging a wordwith me during our walk. When the service was over he ordered the usherto take the boys home, and remained with me in the churchyard, surveyingthe tombstones, and occasionally muttering to himself. At last thecongregation dispersed, and we were alone.
"Little did I think, Jacob," said he, at last, "that when I bestowedsuch care upon thee in thy childhood, I should be rewarded as I havebeen! Little did I think that it would be to the boy who was leftdestitute that I should pour out my soul when afflicted, and find in himthat sympathy which I have long lost, by the removal of those who wereonce my friends! Yes, Jacob, those who were known to me in my youth--those few in whom I confided and leant upon--are now lying here incrumbling dust, and the generation hath passed away; and I now rest uponthee, my son, whom I have directed in the right path, and who hast, bythe blessing of God, continued to walk straight in it. Verily, thou arta solace to me, Jacob; and though young in years, I feel that in thee Ihave received a friend, and one that I may confide in. Bless thee,Jacob! bless thee, my boy! and before I am laid with those who have gonebefore me, may I see thee prosperous and happy! Then I will sing the_Nunc Dimittis_, then will I say, `Now, Lord, let thy servant depart inpeace.'"
"I am happy, sir," replied I, "to hear you say that I am of any comfortto you, for I feel truly grateful for all your kindness to me; but Iwish that you did not require comfort."
"Jacob, in what part of a man's life does he not require comfort andconsolation; yea, even from the time when, as a child, he buries hisweeping face in his mother's lap till the hour that summons him to hisaccount? Not that I consider this world to be, as many have describedit, a `vale of tears'; No, Jacob; it is a beautiful world, a gloriousworld, and would be a happy world, if we would only restrain thosesenses and those passions with which we have been endowed, that we mayfully enjoy the beauty, the variety, the inexhaustible bounty of agracious heaven. All was made for enjoyment and for happiness; but itis we ourselves who, by excess, defile that which otherwise were pure.Thus, the fainting traveller may drink wholesome and refreshing draughtsfrom the bounteous, overflowing spring; but should he rush heedlesslyinto it, he muddies the source, and the waters are those of bitterness.Thus, Jacob, was wine given to cheer the heart of man; yet, didst notthou witness me, thy preceptor, debased by intemperance? Thus, Jacob,were the affections implanted in us as a source of sweetest happiness,such as those which now yearn in my breast towards thee; yet hast thouseen me, thy preceptor, by yielding to the infatuation and imbecility ofthreescore years, dote, in my folly, upon a maiden, and turn the sweetaffections into a source of misery and anguish." I answered not, forthe words of the Dominie made a strong impression upon me, and I wasweighing them in my mind. "Jacob," continued the Dominie, after apause, "next to the book of life, there is no subject of contemplationmore salutary than the book of death, of which each stone now around usmay be considered as a page, and each page contains a lesson. Read thatwhich is now before us. It would appear hard that an only child shouldhave been torn away from its doting parents, who have thus imperfectlyexpressed their anguish on the tomb; it would appear hard that theirdelight, their solace, the object of their daily care, of their wakingthoughts, of their last imperfect recollections as they sank into sleep,of their only dreams, should thus have been taken from them; yet did Iknow them, and Heaven was just and merciful. The child had weaned themfrom their God; they lived but in him; they were without God in theworld. The child alone had their affections, and they had been lost hadnot He in His mercy removed it. Come this way, Jacob." I followed theDominie till he stood before another tombstone in the corner of thechurchyard. "This stone, Jacob, marks the spot where lies the remainsof one who was my earliest and dearest friend--for in my youth I hadfriends, because I had anticipations, and little thought that it wouldhave pleased God that I should do my duty in that station to which Ihave been called. He had one fault, which proved a source of miserythrough life, and was the cause of an untimely death. He was of arevengeful disposition. He never forgave an injury, forgetting, poor,sinful mortal, for how much he had need to be forgiven. He quarrelledwith his relations; he was shot in a duel with his friend! I mentionthis, Jacob, as a lesson to thee; not that I feel myself worthy to bethy preceptor, for I am humbled, but out of kindness and love towardsthee, that I might persuade thee to correct that fault in thydisposition."
"I have already made friends with Mr Drummond, sir," answered I; "butstill your admonition shall not be thrown away."
"Hast thou, Jacob? then is my mind much relieved. I trust thou wilt nolonger stand in thine own light, but accept the offers which, in thefulness of his heart to make redress, he may make unto thee."
"Nay, sir, I cannot promise that; I wish to be independent and earn myown livelihood."
"Then hear me, Jacob, for the spirit of prophecy is on me; the time willcome when thou shalt bitterly repent. Thou hast received an educationby my unworthy endeavours, and hast been blessed by Providence withtalents far above the situation in life to which thou wouldst sotenaciously adhere; the time will come when thou wilt repent, yea,bitterly repent. Look at that marble monument with the arms so lavishlyemblazoned upon it. That, Jacob, is the tomb of a proud man, whosecareer is well known to me. He was in straitened circumstances, yet ofgentle race--but like the steward in the Scripture, `work he could not,to beg he was ashamed.' He might have prospered in the world, but hispride forbade him. He might have made friends, but his pride forbadehim. He might have wedded himself to wealth and beauty, but there wasno escutcheon, and his pride forbade him. He did marry, and entail uponhis children poverty. He died, and the little he possessed was takenfrom his children's necessities to build this record to his dust. Donot suppose that I would check that honest pride which will prove asafeguard from unworthy actions. I only wish to check that undue pridewhich will mar thy future prospects. Jacob, that which thou termest_independence_ is naught but pride."
I could not acknowledge that I agreed with the Dominie, althoughsomething in my breast told me that he was not wrong. I made no answer.The Dominie again spoke.
"Yes; it is a beautiful world for the Spirit of God is on it. At theseparation of chaos it came over the water, and hath since remained withus, everywhere, but invisible. We see his hand in the variety and thebeauty of creation, but his Spirit we see not; yet do we feel it in thestill small voice of conscience, which would lead us into the rightpath. Now, Jacob, we must return, for I have the catechism and collectsto attend to."
I took leave of the Dominie, and went to Mr Turnbull's, to whom I gavean account of what had passed since I last saw him. He was much pleasedwith my reconciliation with the Drummonds, and interested about theyoung lady to whom appertained the tin box in his possession. "Ipresume, Jacob, we shall now have that mystery cleared up."
"I have not told the gentleman that we have possession of the box,"replied I.
"No; but you told the young lady, you silly fellow; and do you think shewill keep it a secret from him?"
"Very true; I had forgotten that."
"Jacob, I wish you to go to Mr Drummond's and see his family again; youought to do so." I hesitated. "Nay, I shall give you a fairopportunity without wounding that pride of yours, sir," replied MrTurnbull; "I owe him for some wine he purchased for me, and I shall sendthe cheque by you."
To this I assented, as I was not sorry of an op
portunity of seeingSarah. I dined with Mr Turnbull, who was alone, his wife being on avisit to a relation in the country. He again offered me his advice asto giving up the profession of a waterman; but if I did not hear himwith so much impatience as before, nor use so many arguments against it,I did not accede to his wishes, and the subject was dropped. MrTurnbull was satisfied that my resistance was weakened, and hoped intime to have the effect that he desired. When I went home Mary told methat Tom Beazeley had been there, that his wherry was building, that hisfather had given up the lighter, and was now on shore very busy ingetting up his board to attract customers, and obtain work in his newoccupation.
I had not launched my wherry the next morning when down came the younggentleman to whom I had despatched the letter. "Faithful," said he,"come to the tavern with me; I must have some conversation with you." Ifollowed him, and as soon as we were in a room, he said, "First, let mepay my debt, for I owe you much;" and he laid five guineas on the table."I find from Cecilia that you have possession of the tin case of deedswhich has been so eagerly sought after by both parties. Why did you notsay so? And why did you not tell me that it was you whom I hired on thenight when I was so unfortunate?"
"I considered the secret as belonging to the young lady, and having toldher, I left it to her discretion to make you acquainted or not as shepleased."
"It was thoughtful and prudent of you, at all events, although there wasno occasion for it. Nevertheless, I am pleased that you did so, as itproves you to be trustworthy. Now, tell me, who is the gentleman whowas with you in the boat, and who has charge of the box? Observe,Faithful, I do not intend to demand it. I shall tell him the facts ofthe case in your presence, and then leave him to decide whether he willsurrender up the papers to the other party or to me. Can you take methere now?"
"Yes, sir," replied I, "I can, if you please; I will pull you up in halfan hour. The house is at the river's side."
The young gentleman leaped into my wherry, and we were soon in theparlour of Mr Turnbull. I will not repeat the conversation in detail,but give an outline of the young man's story.