Part 6 (1/2)

But Thomas felt reluctant, and hesitated. Nevertheless, he was debating the matter in his mind seriously, and every moment that reluctance was growing weaker.

”Will you play?” asked Boyd in a decided tone, breaking in upon his debate.

”I had rather not,” replied Thomas, trying to smile, so as to conciliate his false friends.

”You are afraid of your money,” said Boyd, in a half-sneering tone.

”It is not that, Boyd.”

”Then what is it, pray?”

”I am afraid that it is not right.”

This was answered by a loud laugh from his two companions, which touched Thomas a good deal, and made him feel more ashamed of the scruples that held him back from entering into the temptation.

”Come, down with your stake, Howland!” said Boyd, after he had finished his laugh.

The hand of Thomas was in his pocket, and his fingers had grasped the silver coin, yet still he hesitated.

”Will you play, or not?” asked Boyd's friend, with something of impatience in his tone. ”Say yes, or no.”

For a moment the mind of Thomas became confused; then the perception came upon him as clear as a sunbeam, that it was wrong to gamble. He remembered, too, vividly, his father's parting injunction.

”_No!_” he said, firmly and decidedly.

Both of his companions looked disappointed and angry.

”What did you bring him here for?” he heard Boyd's companion say to him in an undertone, while a frown darkened upon his brow.

The reply did not reach his ear; but he felt that his company was no longer pleasant, and rising, he bade them a formal good-evening, and hurriedly retired. That little word _no_ had saved him. The scheme was, to win from him his five pounds, and then involve him in ”debts of honour,” as they are falsely called, which would compel him to draw upon his father for more money, or abstract it from his employer, a system which had been pursued by Boyd, and which was discovered only a week subsequent, when the young man was discharged in disgrace. It then came out that he had been for months in secret a.s.sociation with a gambler, and that the two shared together their spoils and peculations.

This incident roused Thomas Howland to a distinct consciousness of the danger that lurked in his path, as a young man, in a large city. He felt, as he had not felt while simply listening to his father's precept, the value of the word _no_; and resolved that hereafter he would utter that little word--and that, too, decidedly--whenever urged to do what his judgment did not approve.

”I will be free!” he said, pacing his chamber backward and forward. ”I will be free hereafter! No one shall persuade me or drive me to do what I feel to be wrong.”

That resolution was his safeguard ever after. When tempted--and he was tempted frequently--his ”_No_” decided the matter at once. There was a power in it that was all-sufficient in resisting evil.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENTER NOT INTO THE PATH OF THE WICKED. Prov.]

Little Charlie's Will.

Walter and Charlie Harrison were the sons of a sea captain, and lived in one of the fine old seaport towns of M----.

These boys were as unlike as two brothers could well be. Walter was a rough, plain boy, large of his age, and rather clumsy, with a pa.s.sionate, jealous temper, which gave his friends a great deal of trouble. But he had some n.o.ble qualities; he was as brave as a young lion, faithful, diligent, perfectly honest and truthful, and sometimes very tender in his feelings. Charlie, some two years younger than Walter, was a delicate, beautiful, sweet-tempered boy, who loved everybody, and, in return, was greatly beloved. He was fair, pale, and slight, with blue eyes and golden curls. Walter said he looked like a girl, and sometimes laughed at his delicacy; but, for all that, he was jealous of the poor child's beauty--even of his weakness.

Captain Harrison was most of the time at sea, and his gentle wife found it difficult to control the impatient spirit, or correct the even more unamiable moodiness, of her eldest son. If she reproved him sternly, he would often accuse her of being partial to her youngest and handsomest son, and say that she petted and indulged Charlie so much, that he could not be disobedient, or give her any trouble; he himself, he said, would be good, if he were so treated.

Walter really thought himself slighted and unloved, because he knew he was very plain, and he saw his sickly brother cared for constantly. He never seemed to think how ridiculous it would look in his mother to be nursing and petting a stout, healthy boy, who was one of the strongest wrestlers, and the best hand with the ball, in all the town.