Part 1 (2/2)
He threw back his head and laughed. ”Yes, mother,” he answered, ”I know it well enough. But in California, you know, the wild oats are one of the most valuable crops. They grow all over the hillsides and keep the cattle and the horses alive. But that wasn't what I meant--to sow wild oats. Say to pick wild flowers, if you like, or even to chase wild geese--to do something that seems good to me just for its own sake, not for the sake of wages of one kind or another. I feel like a hired man, in the service of this magnificent mansion--say in training for father's place as majordomo. I'd like to get out some way, to feel free--perhaps to do something for others.”
The young man's voice hesitated a little. ”Yes, it sounds like cant, I know, but sometimes I feel as if I'd like to do some good in the world, if father only wouldn't insist upon G.o.d's putting it into the ledger.”
His mother moved uneasily, and a slight look of bewilderment came into her face.
”Isn't that almost irreverent?” she asked. ”Surely the righteous must have their reward. And your father is good. See how much he gives to all the established charities, how many things he has founded. He's always thinking of others, and planning for them. And surely, for us, he does everything. How well he has planned this trip to Europe for me and the girls--the court-presentation at Berlin, the season on the Riviera, the visits in England with the Plumptons and the Halverstones. He says Lord Halverstone has the finest old house in Suss.e.x, pure Elizabethan, and all the old customs are kept up, too--family prayers every morning for all the domestics. By-the-way, you know his son Bertie, I believe.”
Harold smiled a little to himself as he answered: ”Yes, I fished at Catalina Island last June with the Honorable Ethelbert; he's rather a decent chap, in spite of his ingrowing mind. But you?--mother, you are simply magnificent! You are father's masterpiece.” The young man leaned over to kiss her, and went up to the Riding Club for his afternoon canter in the Park.
So it came to pa.s.s, early in December, that Mrs. Weightman and her two daughters sailed for Europe, on their serious pleasure trip, even as it had been written in the book of Providence; and John Weightman, who had made the entry, was left to pa.s.s the rest of the winter with his son and heir in the brownstone mansion.
They were comfortable enough. The machinery of the ma.s.sive establishment ran as smoothly as a great electric dynamo. They were busy enough, too.
John Weightman's plans and enterprises were complicated, though his principle of action was always simple--to get good value for every expenditure and effort. The banking-house of which he was the chief, the brain, the will, the absolutely controlling hand, was so admirably organized that the details of its direction took but little time. But the scores of other interests that radiated from it and were dependent upon it--or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, that contributed to its solidity and success--the many investments, industrial, political, benevolent, reformatory, ecclesiastical, that had made the name of Weightman well known and potent in city, church, and state, demanded much attention and careful steering, in order that each might produce the desired result. There were board meetings of corporations and hospitals, conferences in Wall Street and at Albany, consultations and committee meetings in the brownstone mansion.
For a share in all this business and its adjuncts John Weightman had his son in training in one of the famous law firms of the city; for he held that banking itself is a simple affair, the only real difficulties of finance are on its legal side. Meantime he wished the young man to meet and know the men with whom he would have to deal when he became a partner in the house. So a couple of dinners were given in the mansion during December, after which the father called the son's attention to the fact that over a hundred million dollars had sat around the board.
But on Christmas Eve father and son were dining together without guests, and their talk across the broad table, glittering with silver and cut gla.s.s, and softly lit by shaded candles, was intimate, though a little slow at times. The elder man was in rather a rare mood, more expansive and confidential than usual; and, when the coffee was brought in and they were left alone, he talked more freely of his personal plans and hopes than he had ever done before.
”I feel very grateful to-night,” said he, at last; ”it must be something in the air of Christmas that gives me this feeling of thankfulness for the many divine mercies that have been bestowed upon me. All the principles by which I have tried to guide my life have been justified. I have never made the value of this salted almond by anything that the courts would not uphold, at least in the long run, and yet--or wouldn't it be truer to say and therefore?--my affairs have been wonderfully prospered. There's a great deal in that text 'Honesty is the best'--but no, that's not from the Bible, after all, is it? Wait a moment; there is something of that kind, I know.”
”May I light a cigar, father,” said Harold, turning away to hide a smile, ”while you are remembering the text?”
”Yes, certainly,” answered the elder man, rather shortly; ”you know I don't dislike the smell. But it is a wasteful, useless habit, and therefore I have never practised it. Nothing useless is worth while, that's my motto--nothing that does not bring the reward. Oh, now I recall the text, 'Verily I say unto you they have their reward.' I shall ask Doctor Snodgra.s.s to preach a sermon on that verse some day.”
”Using you as an ill.u.s.tration?”
”Well, not exactly that; but I could give him some good material from my own experience to prove the truth of Scripture. I can honestly say that there is not one of my charities that has not brought me in a good return, either in the increase of influence, the building up of credit, or the a.s.sociation with substantial people. Of course you have to be careful how you give, in order to secure the best results--no indiscriminate giving--no pennies in beggars' hats! It has been one of my principles always to use the same kind of judgment in charities that I use in my other affairs, and they have not disappointed me.”
”Even the check that you put in the plate when you take the offertory up the aisle on Sunday morning?”
”Certainly; though there the influence is less direct; and I must confess that I have my doubts in regard to the collection for Foreign Missions. That always seems to me romantic and wasteful. You never hear from it in any definite way. They say the missionaries have done a good deal to open the way for trade; perhaps--but they have also gotten us into commercial and political difficulties. Yet I give to them--a little--it is a matter of conscience with me to identify myself with all the enterprises of the Church; it is the mainstay of social order and a prosperous civilization. But the best forms of benevolence are the well-established, organized ones here at home, where people can see them and know what they are doing.”
”You mean the ones that have a local habitation and a name.”
”Yes; they offer by far the safest return, though of course there is something gained by contributing to general funds. A public man can't afford to be without public spirit. But on the whole I prefer a building, or an endowment. There is a mutual advantage to a good name and a good inst.i.tution in their connection in the public mind. It helps them both. Remember that, my boy. Of course at the beginning you will have to practise it in a small way; later, you will have larger opportunities. But try to put your gifts where they can be identified and do good all around. You'll see the wisdom of it in the long run.”
”I can see it already, sir, and the way you describe it looks amazingly wise and prudent. In other words, we must cast our bread on the waters in large loaves, carried by sound s.h.i.+ps marked with the owner's name, so that the return freight will be sure to come back to us.”
The father laughed, but his eyes were frowning a little as if he suspected something irreverent under the respectful reply.
”You put it humorously, but there's sense in what you say. Why not?
G.o.d rules the sea; but He expects us to follow the laws of navigation and commerce. Why not take good care of your bread, even when you give it away?”
”It's not for me to say why not--and yet I can think of cases--” The young man hesitated for a moment. His half-finished cigar had gone out. He rose and tossed it into the fire, in front of which he remained standing--a slender, eager, restless young figure, with a touch of hunger in the fine face, strangely like and unlike the father, at whom he looked with half-wistful curiosity.
”The fact is, sir,” he continued, ”there is such a case in my mind now, and it is a good deal on my heart, too. So I thought of speaking to you about it to-night. You remember Tom Rollins, the Junior who was so good to me when I entered college?”
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