Part 7 (1/2)
Walter opened it, saw that it was in Charlie's handwriting, and read:--
_MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT._
_I leave to my dear mamma my gold-clasped Bible, my trunk, and all my clothes, except my new green cloth roundabout, which I leave to cousin John, because he likes it, and it just fits him. To my papa I leave my pictures of Jesus Christ stilling the Tempest, and the fight between the ”Const.i.tution” and ”Guerriere,” my seal of Hope and the Anchor, and the ”Voyages of Captain Cook.” To my sister Clara I leave my canaries, my pet squirrel, my flowers, and all my fairy story-books. To my brother Walter I give the rest of my library, my chessboard and men, my battledores and shuttlec.o.c.k, my rabbits, my dog, and my white pony; and when I am dead, I hope he will believe I have loved him dearly._
_CHARLES HARRISON._
Walter wept bitterly over this will; but when he had grown calm, he said, ”May I go to him, mother?” ”If you will promise not to disturb him,” she answered. Walter promised, and stole softly into the chamber, where Charlie was now alone, sleeping quietly. He knelt down by the bed-side, hid his face in the counterpane, and silently prayed G.o.d to forgive all his sins, to give him a better heart, and to make his brother well again. Suddenly he felt a soft hand laid on his head. He looked up, and Charlie's mild blue eyes were smiling on him. ”Come and sit near me,” he said; and Walter then lifted a chair to the bed-side, and read to him out of the sacred Volume.
While they were thus engaged, they heard some unusual noise below, and then their mother coming upstairs with some one who stepped a little heavier. It was their father, returned from his longest and last sea voyage! Now he promised to stay at home with them always.
[Ill.u.s.tration: WALTER AT HIS BROTHER'S BED-SIDE.]
The return of Captain Harrison did more than medicine to cure his little son, who soon became stronger than he had ever been before.
One afternoon, when Charlie had been a fortnight about the house, it was arranged that he should take a short ride on his white pony, soon after breakfast the next day.
When Walter came down in the morning, his mother kissed him more tenderly than usual, and his father, shaking hands with him heartily, wished him many happy returns of the day. Walter looked as though he did not know what to make of this, and his mother said, ”Why, my son, is it possible you have forgotten this is your birthday?”
”Ah, yes, mamma,” he answered; ”I only remembered that it was Charlie's first day out.”
”And so,” said his father, ”you are to give him a ride; pray, what are _you_ to do?”
”Oh, I'll trot along by his side, on foot. I believe I can outrun that pony now.”
When breakfast was over, Walter helped his brother into the saddle, and was arranging the bridle, when Charlie called out, joyfully, ”Look there, brother!” pointing with his riding-whip to another white pony, somewhat larger than his own, standing on the other side of the yard.
Walter ran to it, took off a slip of paper which was pinned to the rein, and read: ”Will Walter, our first-born and beloved son, accept this birthday gift from his parents?”
Walter laid his face against the slender, arching neck of his beautiful pony, and burst into tears. But he was too happy to weep long; he soon ran into the house, thanked and kissed his father and mother, ran out again, mounted, and rode off with his brother.
They had a fine ride. They had many fine rides together in the years that followed; for Charlie continued to improve, till he became quite strong and vigorous. As for Walter, he always kept his robust health; he did not grow to be handsome, but he became what is far better, truly amiable and agreeable. Even Aunt Hannah Perkins grew to liking him at last; and Uncle Walter Rogers, who sent him to college, has been heard to declare that he shall leave him all his fortune--knowing that he will not h.o.a.rd it like a miser, nor waste it like a spend-thrift, but so use it as to do a great deal of good, and make a great many people happy.
But I do not believe that the writing that gives to Walter Harrison a large sum of money, land, and houses, will ever be so dear to him as a little sc.r.a.p of paper, which he keeps among his most valuable and sacred things in his private desk, and on which he has written, ”LITTLE CHARLIE'S WILL.”
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration: WHATSOEVER A MAN SOWETH THAT SHALL HE ALSO REAP]
The Student and Apprentice.
”How far is it from here to the sun, Jim?” asked Harman Lee of his father's apprentice, James Wallace, in a tone of light raillery.
James Wallace, a boy of fourteen, turned his intelligent eyes upon the son of his master, and after regarding him for a moment, replied,--
”I don't know, Harman. How far is it?”
There was something so honest and earnest in the tone of the boy, that, much as Harman had felt at first disposed to sport with his ignorance, he could not refrain from giving him a true answer. Still his contempt for the ignorant apprentice was not to be concealed, and he replied,--