Arthur's Victory

Front matter

KY A. E. WARD. LONDON : SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 56, OLD BAILEY. NEW A'ORK: T. NELSON & SONS, 52, BLEECKER STREET. lovdoy: B. K. BURT Se ro., WINK OPFICK COURT, FI.LLT STR ET. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE i. Give bim a Sunbeam now and then ... 1 II. Good toe. Evil 8 in. AVhy Arthur was late II IV. Arthur perseveres 20 v. AVho spilt the Ink ? 21 vi. Friends 30 vii. An unexpected Visitor 36 Vin. Mr. Stewart's Advice 41 ix. Leaving Home 46 x. Office Trials 53 xi. A pleasant Surprise 59 xn. Misgivings 67 xin. Sunday Afternoon . . . . . . .75 xiv. Influence 80 xv. The force of a good Example . . 83 xvi. A Suggestion carried out 86 xvii. A Talk with Seymour 91 xvm. Tue Lost Papers -.95 xix. Sympathy- 103 xx. A Champion 107 xxi. Tom's Proposal CONTEXTS. CHAP. PAGE xxn. Harding 118 xxiii. The Young Hero 124 xxiv.

The Folded Lamb 131 xxv. Disclosures 137 xxvi. A Step in the Right Direction . . . . 143 xxvn. Reconciliation 117 xxviii. More Disclosures . 153 xxix. A Summary Exit 160 xxx. A Returned Emigrant . 166 xxxi. After Ten Years

Chapter I

jÆr G1VE mM a sunbeam noav and then. " u*3§Sr* SAY' Vincent, you made a fine mess of your Wastes history lesson this morning ! " exclaimed "JfZmfe;' Edward Norris, as he joined his class-mate, J^Ulfft a *a^' <ichcate-looking boy of fourteen, as *?#$» they bounded out of Mr. Stewart's schools'" room at the close of the morning's studies. " Old Crusty said he should give you a bad mark for your carelessness." " Yes, I know," replied Vincent, in a desponding tone, "but I could not help it, Norris. It was not carelessness ; I learnt the lesson perfectly last night, but I had a bad headache, and I didn't quite know what question Mr. Crust asked ; and when I had once given one wrong answer I got confused. That was it." " A likely story ! do you think Mr. Crust would believe it ? ;' B " No ; but it is true for all that.

It was cruel of you all to laugh as you did." " Laugh ! why, who could help laughing when you said Nero was the first Roman emperor ? I am sure old Crusty himself smiled, for I saw him." " You are a coward if you can't bear to be laughed at, Vincent," said another and older boy who had joined them. The quiet sneer with which the remark was made caused the colour to rise in Vincent's cheeks, and the light to flash from the deeply-sunken eye. He turned round with a quick answer : "I am no more a coward than you are, Seymour; "but that is not saying much." "Take that for your impudence," exclaimed Sey mour, at the same time striking the cheek of the other a smart blow with his open hand. " I'll teach you to insult me in that wa}r." The two boys were immediately surrounded by the rest of the school, who perceived a quarrel was going forward.

A cry of " Shame ! " was raised by one or two who had seen the occurrence, while tho others •called for a clear ground for a fight. Vincent stood perfectly still for a moment : the rush of blood which the blow had caused was succeeded by an ashy paleness ; but the passionate fire that burned in his eye could not be mistaken. His hand was raised to return the blow, when a sudden thought flashed across him, and it dropped back again to his side. " At least I am not such a coward as to strike one younger and weaker than myself," he said, after a GIVE HIM A SUNBEAM NOW AND THEN. 3 minute's pause, speaking slowly and distinctly, and yet with difficulty keeping back the anger that was raging within ; and then he turned and left the play ground rapidly, not heeding, or at least not noticing, the repetition of the taunt " coward," which Seymour threw after him amid bursts of derisive laughter.

Arthur Vincent was an orphan. His chddhood and opening youth had been watched over by a fond mother; but in spite of tender affection his young life had been one of much suffering. His naturally delicate constitution showed itself, as the lad grew up, in a weak and deformed spine, which, independently of the bodily pain it oftentimes caused him, was a source of constant irritation to Arthur's sensitive feelings. While his parents lived he had been shielded as much as possible from everything that could cause him annoyance ; and when his mind required more instruction than his mother could impart, instead cf being sent to school to mix with other boys, a tutt r was provided for him, so that he might still remain under the sheltering influence of home. But now all was changed. A few weeks saw Arthur and his elder sister Mary deprived of both parents.

Mrs. Vincent was taken first ; so that she was spared the pain of knowing that on the death of her husband his affairs were found in such a state, that the two children whom they had both cherished with such fond care and affection were left to struggle with compara tive poverty. But Mary Vincent did not despair. She received the charge of her delicate brother as a high and holy trust ; and she resolved, in humble dependence upon God, to fulfil it to the best of her power. But there were trials in store for Arthur from which Mary's love could not protect him ; and one of the greatest was the necessity which compelled them to send away his tutor and place him as a day scholar under Mr. Stewart's care. He had been at school some three months when our story opens, and such scenes as we have described were not of unfrequent occurrence ; for Arthur was mor bidly sensitive, and the boys could scarcely be expected to enter into his feelings ; so that many a fancied slight and many a careless expression were taken as personal, which were never intended as such.

A few there were, however — Seymour amongst the number — who seemed to take a delight in teasing the shy, pale-faced youth who had not strength nor will to enter into their boisterous games. Arthur Vincent left the playground in no enviable state of mind. His cheek was still smarting from the violence of the blow he had received, but that was no thing to the anger at the insult that was burning within. At first he strove to conquer the turmoil of rage and malice from the same feeling that prevented him returning Seymour's blow — the remembrance of his mother, and the grief she would have felt at seeing him thus. But the attempt was ineffectual ; and when he reached home he was in no state to show himself to his sister ; but hastening to his own little room, and bolting the door, he threw himself upon the bed and burst into a most undignified flood of tears.

GIVE HIM A SUNBEAM NOW AND THEN. He was relieved, however, by the outburst, and after a few minutes was able to join his sister in the parlour. Mary looked up from her work with a bright smile on his entrance. " "Well, Arthur, how have you been getting on this morning ? Come and sit beside me, and tell me what you have been doing." " Oh, I cannot get on at all, Mary. I am miserable ; and I am sure I shall never do any good at Mr. Stewart's. I wish I had my old tutor back again." " That cannot be, you know, Arthur dear," said Mary, gently ; "but you must never despair. Are the lessons so very difficult that you can't manage them ? I thought you and I learnt the Roman history per fectly last night." " Yes, I thought so too ; and yet it was in that very thing I broke down this morning ; if it had been Mr. Stewart I should have got on much better ; but Mr. Crust asks such curious questions — things that are not at all in the lesson sometimes — and then I get puzzled, and don't know what to answer."

" Oh, you will do better when you get to know more of Mr. Crust's ways, I have no doubt. If that be all the cause of that very sober face, I think you may cheer up, Arthur." " No, it is not all, nor the chief part. I cannot get on with the boys ; they laugh at me and tease me so, especially Seymour ; I am sure it is very wrong of them ; and to-day we have had a regular quarrel." Mary looked grave. " Tell me about it, Arthur." And Arthur did so as well as he was able ; and he did not try to hide the malice and passion that had been roused within him, for he ended with, "And, oh, Mary, I felt as if I almost hated Seymour." " ' He that hateth his brother is a murderer,' " said Mary, in a low tone, after a minute's pause. Arthur shuddered, and covered his face with his hand. " God grant that you may never be that, Arthur."

"Oh, I hope not !" exclaimed Arthur. "I don't feel quite so bad about it, — at least, I think not," he added, rather hesitatingly, for he was still far from feeling calm. " You must not feel bad at all, dear. Suppose, instead of hating Seymour you were to try to love him." Arthur opened his eyes wide with astonishment. " Why, Mary, you surely cannot mean that ! You don't know what he does to me; how he vexes and annoys me in every possible way." "And has not your own temper something to do with it, dear ? I believe it is the cause of it all. If you did not get angry with such little things, the boys would soon give over teasing you." Arthur was sdent, for he knew what Mary said was true, and his sister went on — " As to Seymour, I think there is a little excuse for him : you know he has no one much to care for him ; his father is out ad the day, and he has no mother or sister."

" Why, how do you know that, Mary ? " " Why, because you have told me, Arthur. But I GIVE HIM A SUNBEAM NOW AND THEN. think, from what you have said, the boy must have had a miserable sort of life of it. And I was in earnest when I wished you to try and love him. I am sure he is in want of some of the sunshine of love, — will you try to give him a stray sunbeam now and then ? " " I love Seymour ! Oh, Mary, it would be impos sible ! I could never do it." "Will you try?" " I don't know, it would be no use. I don't want to hate him, because of what you said just now, but I can't love him." " Be kind to him, then, and do all you can for him, and the love will come afterwards." Arthur still looked incredulous, and Mary put her arm round his neck and kissed his pale forehead. " I know you cannot do it alone and unaided, dear Arthur ; but you remember Who has said, ' My grace is sufficient for thee ; My strength is made perfect in weakness.' "

Chapter II

v GOOD FOR EVIL. rthur's conversation with his sister was not without its effect : he thought about it a good deal, though he did not say much ; and by the time he had to return to school in the afternoon, his feelings towards Seymour had considerably altered. il It still wanted some minutes to school-time when Arthur entered the schoolroom, but a few of the boys were already there ; they took not much notice of Arthur, however, who quietly passed to his seat, and was soon so busy looking over his lessons that he did not hear the commotion Seymour was making. " It is ready too bad ; here have I a whole sum to do before school begins, and I can't find my pencil : some of you youngsters have got it, I'll warrant me." " What's the use of making such a fuss about it, Seymour?" said Norris, "it's all your own fault; you've left your pencil at home, or dropped it on the road ; besides, your sums ought to have been done last night, and not left till now."

Arthur's upset, GOOD FOR EVIL. 11 " I'll thank you to mind your own business, and leave mine alone ; what have you to do with my sums ? " " Oh, nothing, of course," replied Norris, putting his hands in his pockets and turning away ; " I was going to offer you my pencil, but I won't inter fere." " I don't want it. Here, Boss, Vincent, bring me yours." M Ross took no notice, and Vincent did not hear. Arthur, however, was considerably startled a minute afterwards by some one laying his hand upon his shoulders and pulling him backwards. " What do you mean by not answering when you are spoken to ?" exclaimed Seymour. " I did not hear," replied Arthur. " Don't ted me that ; I spoke loud enough to be heard across the street. You don't want me to have your pencil, I suppose." " That is not the way to ask for it," said Arthur, as he slowly rose.

He was not hurt by the fall, for Seymour had managed that he should come down gently; but he was a little shaken, and certainly not a little out of temper ; but he said no more, and Seymour, after having asked in vain for the pencil, went back to his desk, fearing lest Mr. Stewart should make his appearance, but his complaints were louder than ever. Arthur was struggling with himself; for Mary's words were fresh in his memory, and here was an opportunity for putting them into practice. If he Arthur's victory. did not lend his pencil Seymour woidd get into disgrace for not having finished his sums. "And serve him right too," Arthur thought; "I have a good mind to pay him off that way." But something whispered, "That would not be kind." Arthur gi-ew fidgety and uneasy. There were barely three minutes to the opening of the school, and then the chance would be lost ; he knew what was right, and he resolved to do it.

To cross that large room, which was now nearly full, would at another time have required all Arthur's resolution, for he was always fancying remarks were being made upon him ; but he never thought of that now. He walked straight up to Seymour, and laid the pencil upon his desk. " There is my pencil, Seymour, and I hope you will finish your sums in time." Seymour seized it without a word of thanks, and rapidly began his figures. Arthur stood at his side ; le had something more to say. " I am sorry for my share in our quarrel this morn ing, Seymour. Will you shake hands and let us forget it?" " I think I had about as much to do with it as you had, Vincent," replied Seymour, with an uneasy laugh, " so we will say no more about it." But he did not take the offered hand ; and Mr. Stewart entering at the moment, Arthur went back to his seat.

It was a slight, simple action on Arthur's part, yet GOOD FOR EVIL. it was returning good for evil, and it brought its own reward. There was a quiet sense of happiness within him all the afternoon. And when school closed, all his bitter feelings had passed away, and he could speak to Seymour without more than a momentary rising of anger, even though he did tease and laugh at him as usual. That night, when Arthur knelt by his bed to offer his evening prayer, he asked for that strength of which Mary had reminded him, to help him to conquer his temper, and to be kind to Seymour. Loving him, he still thought, was out of the question ; but he had found out many little ways by which he might do him a kindness. And Arthur put his thoughts into practice. Day by day he was on the look-out for something to do, and many were the smad scrapes from which Seymour was extricated through his means.

If, for instance, his books were left out, as they frequently were, Arthur would put them in their places that he might not incur a forfeit for his carelessness. Seymour often wondered how he got on so well, but he never took the trouble to discover the cause. In the meantime, Arthur's kindly feeling gained ground. He could not be angry with one for whom he was continually performing some good office, and remarks and actions which would formerly have pro voked a sharp reply were now passed over in silence.

Chapter III. Why Arthur Was Late

>j^W£2 T was drawing on towards the close of the WlfM* half-year, and there was often a spirited sglfi&j discussion among the boys as to who would jfe^fcgK win the prize. Seyniour and another boy, jyffi Wilson, were pretty equal for the second- *^ class prize ; sometimes one was first and sometimes the other, and the competition was very eager. Arthur did not share in the frequent conjec tures, for he had no chance of a prize, and did not much care who got one. Mr. Stewart had given the first and second classes an essay to write upon a certain subject, and for the best of each class twenty good marks were to be awarded. This essay caused a great deal of talk and debate, and the boys were working hard at it during the alloted month. The day on which the essays were to be examined was eagerly looked forward to, and the chance of each boy's being first was freely commented upon.

Seymour was very anxious to be the' successful one in his class, for upon this essay depended, in all probability, his chance for the prize. At length the day came for carrying in the essays. WHY ARTHUR WAS LATE. Arthur overtook several of the boys on the way to school, and they were ad eagerly talking. Suddenly, as they were just reaching the door, Seymour came to a dead stop, and began feeling in ad his pockets, and searching in his book-bag, and then, not satisfied, searched them over again. Then he stood stid, looking puzzled. At last he exclaimed, " What a blockhead I am ! I do believe I have gone and left this precious essay behind me. Yes, I have. I remember quite well now. It's your fault, Hartley ; for I took it out of my bag to show it to you, and I never put it back again." " Come, you need not say that, Seymour ; you should not have been so careless as to leave it there."

" No, that is clear ; but the thing is done, and there is no time to go back for it now ; I should be late for school. I'll be bound Wilson has his all safe." " Oh, yes," replied Wilson, with a self-satisfied smile, showing the corner of his manuscript. Seymour heaved a sigh. " I will run back for it, Seymour, if you will tell me where I shall find it," said Arthur. "Wdl you?" replied Sej'mour, brightening; "oh, that's right. But you will be late, Vincent ; you can never be back by half-past nine." " No, I know ; but I am not trying for a prize, so it does not so much matter." " Well, if you will go, I'll give you half my pocket money next month. There ! " " I don't want your money, Seymour ; there is some thing else I should like better." "What? Let' shave it: be quick." " That you would try not to tease me so often as you do : it is sometimes hard to bear."

Arthur spoke in a low tone, and rather tremulously. " Well, well ; run along with you, and I'll vote you — a regular brick ! " It cost Arthur a great effort to brave the severe look which Mr. Stewart always bestowed upon any one who was late ; but he said nothing of that to Seymour, for none of the other boys thought anything of it : it was only the mark it involved that they cared for. It was full half a mile from the school to Seymour's house, but Arthur was not long in reaching it, for he ran all the way there ; got the old housekeeper to bring him the essay from the table where it had been left, started back with it, not quite so quickly indeed as he had come, and arrived completely out of breath, and entered the schoolroom just ten minutes after the opening. The Scripture lesson had begun, and he tried to gain his seat without attracting notice, putting the essay into Seymour's stealthily outstretched hand as he passed him on his way to his own desk.

But Mr. Stewart's eyes were upon him, and he stopped the reading to say, somewhat sternly, "You are late, Vincent." Arthur turned red. " I am very sorry, sir," he began, and there stopped. " What is the reason ? " " I— I couldn't help it." Mr. Stewart looked at him as if waiting for more WHY ARTHUR WAS LATE. and scarcely believing what he had said, when Sey mour, who had been feeling uncomfortable, came out bluntly with, " It was my fault Vincent was late, sir ; I left my essay behind me, and he went back for it." " Was that it ? " inquired Mr. Stewart, turning to Arthur. " Yes, sir, that was it," replied Arthur, very much relieved. " Very well ; that is a satisfactory reason. Never theless, you must take the consequences, Vincent." The mark was put against his name, and nothing more was said ; but Mr. Stewart looked with a more kindly eye than formerly upon the shy, delicate youth, whom he had never thought to have much in him.

" I say, you are a good fellow, Vincent, and no mistake," exclaimed Seymour, as he joined Arthur on leaving school ; " I am sorry you were marked late, though, I thought Mr. Stewart would have excused you when I told him what made you so." " Oh, that made no difference ; I was late, you know, so I deserved it." "Well, thank you for going. I wish to-morrow were here, that we might know whose essay is the best." " I hope yours wid be. I shall take more interest in it now," said Arthur, with a smile. " Hark ! there is Hartley cading me ! " exclaimed Seymour. " I must be off." And he ran away, while Arthur went on more slowly alone. But he had not gone beyond the playground when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and turning round he saw Mr. Stewart beside him. c Arthur was a good deal startled, and heartily wished him somewhere else.

But Mr. Stewart's quiet, kind manner, however, re assured him. " And so you have been trying to practise the duty of self-denial a little this morning, Vincent ? " " I don't know, I am sure, sir," said Arthur, timidly. " Well, was it not some self-denial to make yourself late that you might do Seymour a good turn ? " " I don't know that I thought of that, sir," replied Arthur, with more confidence. " I wanted to be kind to him, that was all." " Ah ! poor Seymour wants kindness, for he does not always get it, I fear. That is a wise and holy precept given us in the Bible, ' Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another.' Are you trying to fodow it, my boy ? " " I hope I am, sir. And I like Seymour a great deal better than I used to do, but I don't think he will ever like me."

" That will come in time, I have no doubt. I sus pect you have had a good deal of teasing to go through, eh?" Arthur coloured, but made no answer. "Ah, wed, boys wid be boys. We have ad had it in our day, I suppose. But I wish, both for your sake and his, that Seymour were your friend, Arthur. I think you might do him a great deal of good." " I might ? oh, no ! " " I think differently. Seymour is growing hard and callous for want of some one to love; and if he felt WHY ARTHUR WAS LATE. that you looked up to and leaned upon him, it would alter that a good deal. And I think you are going the way to do it. Only persevere, my boy ; and if your aim be to make Seymour love you, I have no doubt you wdl succeed." Arthur felt very much pleased at these words of encouragement from the master, whom he had always regarded with a good deal of awe ; and his kind manner emboldened him to say what he had long wished Mr. Stewart knew.

" I am afraid, sir, you often find I don't do my lessons so well as I ought to do ; but I really try very hard to learn them." " But you don't always succeed, Vincent." " No, sir, I know ; but my head aches so badly some times I hardly know what I am doing ; but indeed I do my best." " Only do that, my boy, and I shall not be hard upon you. You ought to have told me this before, Vincent, and then I should not have expected so much from you. When I see a boy really and truly striving to study as he ought to do, and as I hope you do, Vincent, I have no cause to complain of him, even though his success may not be equal to those who try less. Therefore, do not be disheartened, but, as I told you before, persevere." This conversation was very cheering to Arthur ; it put him on quite a different footing with Mr. Stewart, who he felt was now his friend as wed as his master ; and Mr. Stewart often afterwards gave him a word of encouragement, which helped him on his way wonder fully.

Chapter IV. Arthur Perseveres

jgSlpir? he following morning all tho boys were eager mmmjj&L, to learn the fate of the essays, and they as 'fflx&z.^ sembled in the schoolroom early, though ■a&xtsk* could not know the result untd Mr. fisBjSTl Stewart appeared. Arthur was surprised ■%$. when he arrived to find that Seymour was not yet there ; he expected he would have been one of the first. Half-past nine came, and still no Seymour. Neither was he there when Mr. Stewart stood up to announce the successful competitors. Fortescue, the eldest boy in the school, had written the best essay in the first class ; and it was with a glow of pleasure that Arthur heard Seymour's name mentioned as standing at the head of the second. Not so Wilson ; his face was black with disappoint ment, and he contrived to whisper in Arthur's ear, " It is ad your fault, you young scoundrel ; you might have let Seymour take the consequences of his care lessness, and then I should have been first."

ARTHUR PERSEVERES. 21 " I am very glad I fetched it for him," was Arthur's reply. Seymour never came at all in the morning, and in the afternoon it was the same ; and it was reported in the school that he was not well. Wilson openly rejoiced, and wished he would stay away several days, and then he might stid win the prize. Arthur had to pass the door of Seymour's house on his way home, and he felt half inclined to step in and inquire after him ; but he did not know how he might be received, so he passed on. The next day was Saturday, the afternoon of which was always a holiday. Seymour was not at school again, and tho cause of his absence was made certain by Mr. Stewart saying he was laid up with a feverish cold, and could not stir out. Arthur wondered if any one had been to tell him about his essay ; and in order to know, he determined to go and see him after dinner.

The sick boy was lying on the sofa, looking very dud and miserable ; he turned his head as Arthur entered. " Oh, is it only you, Vincent ? I hoped it was Hartley or Norris ; I wonder why they don't come and see me." Not a very flattering reception, certainly, but Arthur was resolved to make the best of it. " I am very sorry you are poorly, Seymour ; I quite missed you yesterday." " It is so horribly stupid, staying in here," replied Seymour, flinging his arms over his head ; " I declare I thought yesterday never would come to an end, and to-day is nearly as bad." Arthur's victory. "Poor Seymour! I thought of stepping in last night to ask after you; I wish I had. Has no one been to ted you about the essays?" " No, not they ; they ad forget me when I am not there." "Not quite all," said Arthur, softly.