CHAPTER XXXIX
THE LETTER
"LAD DEAR, I was saying to myself the other day, 'Patrick Mungovan, whenyou go home to God, what will you be leaving--you that haven't a redcent to your name--to that mite of a boy, John?' 'Well,' PatrickMungovan answered back, 'to be truthful, I've nothing to leave but thememory of a sweet friendship and, maybe, a letter.'
"So down I sat, and started this. Just at the beginning of it, where itcan help to ease any pain in your heart, let me say a word about mygoing, for I want you to be happy always when you're thinking of me. Sobelieve what I say: though we can't sit and talk together, as we have,still we'll never be parted. No! For the reason that I'll live on, notonly in the spirit, but also in that fine brain of yours! And wheneveryou'll be wanting me, you'll think me with you, and there I'll be, nevera day older, never a bit less red-headed, or dear to your loving eyes.So! We're friends, you and I, as long as memory lasts!
"Lad dear, I called you rich once. You didn't understand all I meant byit, and I'm going to explain myself here. And I'll start the list ofyour riches with this: though you've been shut in, and worked hard, andfed none too well, and dressed badly, and cheated by Tom Barber out ofthe smiles, and the decent words of praise, and the consideration andpoliteness that's every child's honest due--in spite of all this, I say,you've gone right on, ignoring what you couldn't help, learning whatyou could, improving yourself, preserving your sense of humor (which isthe power to see what's funny in everything), and never letting youryoung heart forget to sing.
"'But,' you'll ask, 'how is it that not caring too much about food andclothes may be counted as a valuable possession?' And I'll answer, 'Thatman is strong, John, whose appetite is his servant, not his master. Andthat man is stronger yet if, wearing ragged, old clothes, all the samehe can keep his pride high. For "Is not the life more than meat, and thebody than raiment?" Well, that's how it's been with you!
"Some of your riches consist of things which you haven't got--now thatsounds strange, does it not? And I don't mean the scarlet fever whichyou haven't, or a hair lip, or such like. No. You're rich in not beingmorbid, for instance,--in not dwelling on what's unpleasant, and ugly.Also because you don't harbor malice and ill-will. Because you don'tfret, and sulk, and brood, all these goings-on being a sad waste oftime.
"And now let's count over the riches that you've got in your character.In the back of your Handbook, Mr. Roosevelt, writing about boy scouts,named four qualities for a fine lad: unselfish, gentle, strong, brave.They're your qualities, lad dear. And you proved the last one when youtook that whipping with the ropes--ah, is a boy poor when he's got thespunk in him? He is not! Well, along with those four qualities I canhonestly add these others: you're grateful, you're clean (in heart andin mouth, liking and speaking what's good), you're merciful, you'retruthful, you're ambitious, you've got decent instincts--inherited, buta part of your riches, just the same.
"As for the way you like what helps you (and queer as it may seem, toomany boys _don't_ like what helps them), that has astonished andpleased me many a day. I remember your telling me once that you gottired of prunes and potatoes. And I said to you, 'Prunes are good foryou, and nothing could be better than baked potatoes,'--I knowing howyou relished them mashed! Well, after that, never another mashed potatodared to show its eyes! And, oh, how you did make away with the prunes!
"It's the good things you've got in your character, and the bad thingsthat you haven't got, which explain how it comes that you're loved theway you are--by Narcissa, and Grandpa (ah, it's handsome, is that oldsoldier's love for you! it's grand!), and Mrs. Kukor, and the Westerngentleman, and Mr. Perkins, and me! With so much love as all that, couldyou ever think of yourself as poor? Now you just couldn't!
"And then consider the way you love each of us in return! And no lad cansay he's poor when he's got the power to love in him! and the sweetsacrifice! And you know the kind of love that all sound young heartsgive to the crippled and the helpless and the dumb. Grandpa would sayYes to that if he could. And so would the sparrows on the window sill!
"But, of course, we'll not be forgetting that you've got your youth, andmost precious it is, and two rows of teeth which don't need bridging!Also, you're as good-looking as any boy ought to be, you're improving instrength, and you're healthy. Why, there's many a millionaire who'd givehis fortune if he had that grand little tummy of yours, which can digestthe knobs off the doors!
"Already--at twelve!--you've got the habit of work, and, oh, what ablessing that habit is, and what an insurance against Satan! And you'vegot the book habit, a glorious one, since it gives you information,entertains you, and teaches you to think, to argue things out foryourself. Yes, it's reading which makes a lad strong in himself. Youdon't need racket, and the company of other lads, in order to have agood time. And, John, you know how to listen, and that's uncommon, too.
"But thinking is your greatest blessing. You get your joy, not out ofwhat you _have_, for God in His wisdom knows how little that is, but outof what you _think_. If there's something you haven't, you go ahead andsupply it with your thoughts, creating beauty where there isn't any,building a world of your own. Never before have I met a lad who coulddream as you can dream. Ah, and what it's done for you--in that dark,dirty, little flat!
"Dreams! Behind every big thing that's ever happened was a dream! TheUniverse itself was first of all just an idea in the mind of AlmightyGod. In His wisdom and love He left it to man to work out other plansless grand. And who's ever been great that didn't dream? First you dreama thing; then you do it. Take Samuel Morse, for instance. He had awonderful thought. Next, with his telegraph, he'd constructed the nervesof the world! And there's Mr. Marconi. Not so long ago, they'd haveburned him as a gentleman witch!
"Imagination! I've no doubt you've often envied Aladdin his wonderfullamp? (They're not making so many of those lamps these days!) But, boydear, every lad's got a lamp that's just as wonderful! The lamp ofknowledge. Get knowledge, John. Then--_rub it with your imagination_.
"And look at all the marvels that lie about you waiting to help! Thebooks, the paintings, the schools, the churches, the universities, themusic, the museums, the right kind of plays--they're all right here inNew York City. Why, lad dear, even the shops are an education, withtheir rugs, and their fine weaves, and furniture, and crystal, andchina, and all the rest of it. Think of having such a city just to goout and walk around in! And you'll not cast aside a single opportunity!
"So what of your future? Here! Take Father Pat's hand, and shut youreyes, and we'll go on an Aladdin trip together, this to see what becameof certain other poor little boys. Here's a wonderful office, and a manis sitting at his desk. He heads one of the biggest concerns in theworld, he's cultured, and generous, and a credit to his country. Supposewe go back with him thirty years. Oh, look, lad! _He's sellingnewspapers!_
"We're off again. We're in a room that's lofty and grand. And looking ata man in a solemn mantle. He's high in our nation's counsels, he'shonored, and known by the whole world. He's a Justice of the SupremeCourt of the United States of America. Let's go back with _him_ thirtyyears. Dear! dear! what do we see! A poor, little, tattered youngsterwho's driving home the cows!
"Ah, Johnnie, lads don't get on by having things soft. Give a lad ahundred thousand dollars, and it's likely you'll ruin him. Let him_make_ a hundred thousand, _honestly_, and--you've got a man!
"Seldom do the sons of rich men distinguish themselves. TheodoreRoosevelt did (he that said, 'Don't go around; go over--or through').And, yes, I recall another--that fine gentleman who was a greatelectrical engineer, Peter Cooper Hewitt. But most of the big men inthis country were _poor boys_. Having to struggle, they grew strong.
"For instance, there were the Wright brothers, who turned men intoeagles! Their sister was called 'the little schoolma'am with the crazybrothers!' Robert Burns, the Scotch poet, was the son of a laboring man.Charles Dickens earned money by sticking labels in a shoe-blackingfactory. William Shakespeare's father made gloves.
Benjamin Franklin wasthe son of a candlemaker. Daniel Defoe, who wrote that _Robinson Crusoe_you love so much, helped his father around the butcher shop. JohnBunyan was a traveling tinker. And Christopher Columbus was the son of awool comber, and himself worked before the mast.
"They're gone, but their thoughts live on, as busy as ever, whirlingabout us like the rain out of Heaven. Each of them dreamed, and whatthey dreamed is our heritage. When such men pass, we must have lads whocan take their places. And I believe that you are one of these lads. Fornobody can tell me that the power you have of seeing things with yourbrain--things you've never seen with your eyes--won't carry you far andhigh among your fellowmen. And some day, you'll be one of the greatestin this dear land. And it'll be told of you how you lived in the EastSide, in a scrap of a flat, where you were like a prisoner, and tookcare of a weak, old soldier, and did your duty, though it came hard, andbegan the dreaming of your dreams.
"Thinking about the big ones that won out against long odds will helpyou--will give you the grit to carry on. And grit makes a good, solidfoundation, whether it's for a house or a lad. And when you'veaccomplished the most for yourself, then I know you'll remember thatdoing for yourself is just a small part of it; the other part--the grandpart--is what you can do for your fellowmen.
"There's a true saying that 'God helps them who help themselves.' But,suppose you lived where it wasn't possible for you to help yourself? Andthere are countries just like that. But here, in the United States, you_can_ help yourself! Ah, that's a great blessing, my yellow-head! Oh,Johnnie, was there ever a land like this one before? Boy dear, thisUnited States, _this_ is the Land of Aladdin!
"Young friend, as I close I want to thank you for what you've done for asmashed-up priest--gladdened his last days with the sight of a grandlad, a good scout. And I've got just a single warning for you, and it'sthis: Watch your play! For it's not by the work that a man does that youcan judge him. No; I'll tell you what a man is like if you'll tell me_how he plays_.
"One thing more: do you remember the vow the knights used to take in theold days?--'live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the king.' FatherPat knows he can trust John Blake to keep that vow. And his last wish,and his dying prayer is, O little, little lad, that you put your trustin God--just that, and everything else will come right for you--put yourtrust in God.
"PATRICK MUNGOVAN."
Thus it ended. There the hand of that faithful friend had stopped. Butbelow the name, separated from it and the body of the letter, was ashort paragraph which was a prayer:
"I entreat the Saints to watch over him, to guard him and keep him allthe days of his life, and when that life is ended, to bring him injoyful safety to the feet of Almighty God."