to Eddie’s petitions, “I would rather you would not do it”–
meaning swimming, skating, picnicking, berrying, circusing,
and all sorts of things which boys delight in. But NO answer
was sufficient for Georgie; he had to be humored in his desires,
or he would carry them with a high hand. Naturally, no boy got
more swimming skating, berrying, and so forth than he; no body
ever had a better time. The good Brants did not allow the boys
to play out after nine in summer evenings; they were sent to bed
at that hour; Eddie honorably remained, but Georgie usually slipped
out of the window toward ten, and enjoyed himself until midnight.
It seemed impossible to break Georgie of this bad habit, but the
Brants managed it at last by hiring him, with apples and marbles,
to stay in. The good Brants gave all their time and attention
to vain endeavors to regulate Georgie; they said, with grateful
tears in their eyes, that Eddie needed no efforts of theirs,
he was so good, so considerate, and in all ways so perfect.
By and by the boys were big enough to work, so they were apprenticed
to a trade: Edward went voluntarily; George was coaxed and bribed.
Edward worked hard and faithfully, and ceased to be an expense to the
good Brants; they praised him, so did his master; but George ran away,
and it cost Mr. Brant both money and trouble to hunt him up and get
him back. By and by he ran away again–more money and more trouble.
He ran away a third time–and stole a few things to carry with him.
Trouble and expense for Mr. Brant once more; and, besides, it was with
the greatest difficulty that he succeeded in persuading the master
to let the youth go unprosecuted for the theft.
Edward worked steadily along, and in time became a full partner
in his master’s business. George did not improve; he kept the loving
hearts of his aged benefactors full of trouble, and their hands full
of inventive activities to protect him from ruin. Edward, as a boy,
had interested himself in Sunday-schools, debating societies,
penny missionary affairs, anti-tobacco organizations, anti-profanity
associations, and all such things; as a man, he was a quiet but
steady and reliable helper in the church, the temperance societies,
and in all movements looking to the aiding and uplifting of men. This
excited no remark, attracted no attention–for it was his “natural bent.”
Finally, the old people died. The will testified their loving
pride in Edward, and left their little property to George–
because he “needed it”; whereas, “owing to a bountiful Providence,”
such was not the case with Edward. The property was left to
George conditionally: he must buy out Edward’s partner with it;
else it must go to a benevolent organization called the Prisoner’s
Friend Society. The old people left a letter, in which they begged
their dear son Edward to take their place and watch over George,
and help and shield him as they had done.
Edward dutifully acquiesced, and George became his partner in
the business. He was not a valuable partner: he had been meddling
with drink before; he soon developed into a constant tippler now,
and his flesh and eyes showed the fact unpleasantly. Edward had
been courting a sweet and kindly spirited girl for some time.
They loved each other dearly, and–But about this period George began
to haunt her tearfully and imploringly, and at last she went crying
to Edward, and said her high and holy duty was plain before her–
she must not let her own selfish desires interfere with it:
she must marry “poor George” and “reform him.” It would break
her heart, she knew it would, and so on; but duty was duty.
So she married George, and Edward’s heart came very near breaking,
as well as her own. However, Edward recovered, and married another girl–
a very excellent one she was, too.
Children came to both families. Mary did her honest best to reform
her husband, but the contract was too large. George went on drinking,
and by and by he fell to misusing her and the little ones sadly.