Life in London Part 2

George's eyes sparkled with delight as he read the letter; and found the enclosure to be a cheque for five pounds. This was a great treasure and relief to him, for he had thought many times about his boots, which were down at heel, and his best coat, which shone a good deal about the elbows, and showed symptoms of decay in the neighbourhood of the b.u.t.ton-holes.

A new suit of clothes and a pair of boots were therefore purchased at once, and when Sunday morning came, and George dressed himself in them, and stood ready to accompany his mother to the house of G.o.d, she thought (although, of course, she did not say so) that she had never seen a more handsome and gentlemanly-looking youth than her son.

"Mother," said George, as they walked along, "what a treat the Sunday will always be now, after being pent up in the office all the week. I shall look forward to it with such pleasure, not only for the sake of its rest, but because I shall have a whole day with you."

"The Sabbath is, indeed, a boon," replied Mrs. Weston, "when it is made a rest-day for the soul, as well as for the body. You remember those lines I taught you, when you were quite another fellow, before you went to school, do you not?--

"'A Sunday well spent brings a week of content And health for the toils of the morrow; But a Sabbath profaned, whatsoe'er may be gained, Is a certain forerunner of sorrow.'"

"Yes, mother, I remember them; and capital lines they are. Dr. Seaward once said, 'Strike the key-note of your tune incorrectly, and the whole song will be inharmonious;' so, if the Sabbath is improperly spent, the week will generally be like it."

That morning the preacher took for his text the beautiful words in Isaiah xli. 10, "Fear thou not, for I am with thee: be not dismayed, for I am thy G.o.d: I will strengthen thee--yea, I will help thee yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." These words came like the sound of heavenly music into the soul of the widow; and she prayed, with the fervency a mother alone can pray for a beloved and only son, that the time might speedily come when he would be able to appropriate these words, and realize, in the true sense of the term, G.o.d as his Father. For George, although he had from early infancy been brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and had learnt to love holiness from so constantly seeing its beauty exemplified by his parents, had not yet undergone that one great change which creates the soul anew in Christ Jesus.

Mr. Brunton arrived in the evening, just as Mrs. Weston and George were starting out to the second service, and so they all went together to the same place. The minister, an excellent man, who felt the responsibility of his office, and took every opportunity of doing good, was in the habit of giving four sermons a year especially to young men, and it so happened that on this evening one of these discourses was to be delivered. Nothing could have been more appropriate to a young man just starting out in life than his address. The text was taken from those solemn, striking words of the wise man, "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not."

He spoke of the powerful influences continually at work to allure young travellers along life's journey into the snares and pitfalls of sin, and pointed to G.o.d's armoury, and the refuge from all the wiles of the adversary.

As the trio sat round the supper-table that evening, discussing the events of the day, George said--

"I feel very glad that this Sunday has come before I go to Mr.

Compton's. I thought, when the text was given out this evening, that the minister had prepared his sermon especially for me. I have no doubt all he said was quite true; and so, being prepared, I shall be able to be on my guard against the evils which he says are common to those who make their first start in life."

When Mr. Brunton rose to leave that night, he took George aside; and, laying his hand on his shoulder, said--

"George, I am glad you have got your appointment, my boy; but I am sorry, for some reasons, that it is in Mr. Compton's office, for I have made inquiries about the clerks there, and I regret to find that they are not the set of young men I should have liked you to be with. Now, I want you to make me a promise. If ever you are placed in critical circ.u.mstances, or dangers, or difficulties (I say _if_, because I do not know why you should, but _if_ you are), be sure and come to me. Tell me, as you always have done, honestly and openly, your difficulty, and you will always find in me one willing to advise and a.s.sist you. Will you promise?"

"With all my heart I will, uncle; and thank you, too, for this, and all your interests on my account."

"Good-bye, then, George. Go on and prosper; and G.o.d bless you."

Punctually at nine o'clock on Monday morning, George was at the office.

Mr. Sanders, the manager (the old gentleman whom George had seen on his first visit), introduced him to the clerks by saying--

"This is Mr. George Weston, our new junior;" and George, with his face all aglow, made a general bow in return to the salutations which were given him.

"This is to be your seat," said Mr. Sanders; "and that peg is for your hat. And now, as you would, no doubt, like to begin at once, here is a doc.u.ment I want copied."

George was glad to have something to do; he felt all eyes were upon him, and the whispered voices of the clerks rather grated upon his ears. He took up his pen, and began to write; but he found his hand shaky, and he was so confused that, after he had written half a page, and found he had made two or three blunders, he was obliged to take a fresh sheet, and begin again.

"Take your time," said Mr. Sanders, who noticed his dilemma; "you will get on right enough by-and-bye, when you are more accustomed to the place and the work."

George felt relieved by this; and making up his mind to try and forget all around him, he set to work busily again, and in an hour or two had finished the job.

"I have done this, sir," he said, taking it to Mr. Sanders. "What shall I do next?"

"We will just examine it, and then you may take it into Mr. Compton's room. After that you can go and get your dinner, and be back again in an hour."

The doc.u.ment was examined, and, to the surprise of George and Mr.

Sanders, not one mistake was found. "Come, this is beginning well," said the manager; "we shall soon make a clerk of you, I see."

When George went into Mr. Compton's room, and presented the papers, he was again rewarded with an encouraging commendation. "This is very well written--very well written indeed, and shows great painstaking," he said.

George felt he could have shaken hands with both princ.i.p.al and manager for those few words. "How cheap a kind word is," he thought, "to those who give it; but it is more precious than gold to the receiver. I like these two men; and, if I can manage it, they shall like me too."

George had not as yet exchanged a word with any of the clerks; but as he was leaving the office to go to dinner, one of them was going out at the same time, on the same errand.

"Well, Mr. Weston, you find it precious dull, don't you, cooped up in your den?"

"Do you mean the office?" said George.

"Yes; what else should I mean?"

"It seems a comfortable office enough," said George, "and not particularly dull; but I have not had sufficient experience in it to judge."

"You see, that old ogre (I beg his pardon, I mean old Sanders) takes jolly good care there shall be no flinching from work while he's there, and it makes a fellow deuced tired, pegging away all day long."

"If this is a specimen of the clerks," thought George, "Uncle Brunton was not far wrong when he said they were not a very good set."

"From what I have seen of Mr. Sanders," he said, "I think him a very nice man! and as for work, I always thought that was what clerks were engaged to do, and therefore it is their duty to do it, whether under the eye of the manager or not."

George got this sentence out with some difficulty. He felt it was an aggressive step, and did not doubt it would go the round of the office as a tale against him.

"Ugh!" said the clerk; "you've got a thing or two to learn yet, I see.

You must surely be fresh and green from the country; but such notions soon die out. I don't like to be personal though, so we'll change the subject. Where are you going to dine? Most of our chaps patronize the King's Head--first-rate place; get anything you like in two twinklings of a lamb's tail. I'm going there now; will you go? By the way, I should have told you before this that my name is Williams."

"I suppose, Mr. Williams,' the King's Head is a tavern? If so, I prefer a coffee-house; but thank you, notwithstanding, for your offer."

"By George! that's a rum start. Our chaps all hate coffee-shops, with the exception of young Hardy, and he's coming round to our tastes now.

You can get a good feed at the King's Head--stunning tackle in the shape of beer, and meet a decent set of fellows who know how to crack a joke at table; whereas, if you go to a coffee-shop, you have an ugly slice of meat set before you, a jorum of tea leaves and water, or some other mess, and a disagreeable set of people around. Now, which is best?"

"Your description is certainly unfavourable in the latter case; but I do not suppose all coffeehouses are alike, and therefore I shall try one to-day. Good morning."

George soon found a nice-looking quiet place where he could dine, and felt sure he had no need to go to taverns for better accommodation.

When he returned to the office, at two o'clock, Mr. Sanders was absent, and the clerks were busily engaged, not at work, but in conversation.

Mr. Williams was the princ.i.p.al speaker, and seemed to have something very choice to communicate. George made no doubt that he was the subject of conversation, for he had caught one or two words as he entered, which warranted the supposition. He had nothing to do until Mr. Sanders returned; this was an opportunity, therefore, for Mr. Williams to make himself officious.

"Mr. Weston," he said, "allow me to do the honours of the office by introducing you, in a more definite manner than that old ----, I mean than Mr. Sanders did this morning. This gentleman is Mr. Lawson, this is Mr. Allwood, this is Mr. Malcolm, and this my young friend, Mr. Charles Hardy, who is of a serious turn of mind, and is meditating entering the ministry, or the undertaking line."

A laugh at Hardy's expense was the result of this attempt at jocularity on the part of Mr. Williams. George hardly knew how to acknowledge these introductions; but, turning to Charles Hardy, he said,--

"As Mr. Williams has so candidly mentioned your qualities, Mr. Hardy, perhaps you will favour me with a description of his."

Hardy rose from his seat, for up to this time he had been engaged in writing, and, in a tone of mock gravity, replied,

"This is Mr. Williams, who lives at the antipodes of everything that is quiet or serious, whose mission to the earth seems expressly to turn everything he touches into a laugh. He is not a 'youth to fortune and to fame unknown,' for in the archives of the King's Head his name is emblazoned in imperishable characters."

"Well said, Hardy!" said one or two at once. "Now, Williams, you are on your mettle, old boy; stand true to your colours, and trans.m.u.te the sentence into a joke in self-defence."