THE SILVER MORNINGANDTHE GOLDEN DAY.
“O Father! please to come to the door, and see how pretty everything looks,” exclaimed William Mason, running eagerly into the room where his father was sitting.
Mr. Mason was always glad to give his son pleasure, and he laid aside the newspaper which he was reading, and followed him to the door.
There had been quite a heavy snow-storm a few days before, which was succeeded by rain, and then by severe cold. Everything was now entirely cased in ice.
“Is it not beautiful, father?” said William. “I have been all around the yard and garden, and everything has put on its winter coat. Every little branch and twig, every blade of grass, and even the little stones are covered with ice.”
“This is what we used to call a silver morning, when I was a boy,” said Mr. Mason.
“That is a good name for it, father,” replied William; “for everything shines like silver. Look at the road; it is almost as smooth as the pond. I think I can skate to school this morning.”
“You would probably find some rough places, which would injure your skates,” replied Mr. Mason; “but look towards the east, my son, and you will see something more beautiful than anything you have yet observed.”
There was a thick wood of pines toward the east, and, as William looked, he saw that the trees glittered like diamonds, and he could see colors like those of a rainbow in every direction.
He clapped his hands with delight.
“O father,” he exclaimed, “this is the most beautiful sight of all. The sun is rising, and soon it will shine on all the trees and plants, and then everything will look as beautiful as the pine trees do now. It was a silver morning, father, but it will be a golden day.”
“It will, indeed,” replied Mr. Mason. “Everything looked cold and dead before the rays of the sun shone upon them, but now all are sparkling with beauty. The trees will soon lose their icy casing, but the water will sink into the ground, and perform many important uses. The frosts and snows of winter prepare the wayfor the warmth and beauty of spring and summer. The earth rests from its labors, and is in various ways enriched and strengthened.”
“I like all the seasons, father,” said William. “In winter, I am so happy when skating and sliding in the fine cool air, that I wish the weather might always be cold; but when spring and summer and autumn come, with their long sunny days, and their beautiful birds and flowers and delicious fruits, I quite forget winter and its pleasures.”
“Yes, every season has its delights,” replied his father; “but look, William, there is one of your school-fellows. Is he already on his way to school?”
“Oh, that is only Louis Cunningham,” returned William, glancing rather contemptuously at a plainly dressed, but intelligent and manly looking boy, who was passing by.
“Only Louis Cunningham,” repeated Mr. Mason! “Well, is he not one of your school-fellows?”
“Why, yes, father, he goes to the same school. The master gives him his schooling for making the fire and keeping the room in good order. We call him the charity scholar.”
“I am grieved to hear you speak in this manner,” said Mr. Mason, gravely. “Mr. Cunningham died when Louis was very young, and his mother has been obliged to deny him many advantages of education,which she would gladly have given him if it had been in her power. Your teacher heard of their situation, and finding, from conversation with Louis, that he was an intelligent boy, and very desirous to learn, he kindly offered to take him into his school. But Louis and his mother, although they were very grateful for the offer, felt unwilling to accept it, unless they could make some return for the kindness; and it was finally arranged, that Louis should take care of the school-room and make the fire, and I have been told that he performs these duties very faithfully.”
“He does, indeed,” replied William. “The room is always warm and comfortable, and so nicely swept and dusted, that we never have any cause of complaint.”
“One would suppose, then, my son, that you would feel grateful to the person who performs these kind offices, instead of regarding him with contempt and dislike.”
“Oh, we do not dislike Louis, Father. He is always kind and obliging; but we do not like to see him placed on an equality with the rest of the boys, and often pronounced the best scholar in his class.”
“These are evil feelings, William, and I hope to have the pleasure of helping you put them away. Sit down by me in the parlor for a few minutes, and we will talk about Louis. Can you tell me why the boysthink he should not be placed upon an equality with them? Is he inferior to the others as a scholar, or is he a wicked, profane boy?”
“Oh no, father. Louis is a very good boy, and a better scholar than many who have had greater advantages; but, as he does not pay for his schooling, we do not think that he is entitled to the same privileges that we are.”
“Even if this were the case, he would be entitled to every privilege, William, if Mr. Grant chose to instruct him without remuneration; but Louis does pay for his schooling; not indeed with his father’s money,—because the Lord has seen fit to remove his father to the spiritual world,—but with his own labor. Mr. Grant considers his services as an equivalent to his instruction, and, according to your own account, the duties are well performed. Louis, then, pays for his schooling as much, or more, than any boy in school; for the others depend upon their father’s labor, while he depends upon his own. Your school bills, as well as other expenses, are paid from the proceeds of my daily labor in my profession, and the case is the same with the other boys who attend your school.”
“This is very true, father,” replied William, “and I know it is wrong to despise those who are poorer than ourselves. We often laugh at Louis, when he comes to school with coarse, patched clothes; butI suppose his mother cannot afford to buy him any better.”
“She cannot, indeed, William; and of how little consequence is external clothing, compared to many other things in which Louis probably surpasses your other school-mates. It is right to be neat and clean, and as well dressed as our circumstances will admit; but the clothing of our soul is of more importance than the clothing of our bodies. If Louis is industrious, obedient, faithful in the performance of his duties, and in the endeavor to shun evil words and deeds, he appears to the Lord and the angels as if clothed in the most beautiful raiment.”
William made no reply, but appeared much interested in what his father was saying, and Mr. Mason continued,—
“You must ever remember the Golden Rule, my son. Think how you would wish to be treated, if you were situated like Louis; and then you will be more careful not to wound his feelings, by contempt or idle jests.”
“I will try to remember, father. I know I have done wrong, and I will begin to-day, and treat Louis just the same as I do the other scholars. Perhaps I may be able to help in some way.”
“These are good resolutions, my son; and, if they are carried into practice, they will do you and othersmuch good. The light has dawned in your mind. It is asilver morning, and the rays of the spiritual sun will render it agolden day.”
Within an hour after this conversation, William was on his way to school, with his satchel of books and his skates slung over his shoulder, and his dinner pail in his hand. He was soon joined by several companions, and each boy tried to display his skill in keeping his balance on the glare ice, which to many would have rendered the road almost impassable. But boys have little fear of ice and snow, and, half running and half sliding, they soon reached the school-house, where they found, as usual, a comfortable and neatly arranged room.
Louis Cunningham was busily engaged at his desk, and, being little accustomed to any morning salutations from his school-fellows, he did not look up when they entered. He was somewhat surprised to hear William exclaim: “Good morning, Louis. What a grand fire you have got for us. I am sure we are much obliged to you, this cold morning.”
“You are very welcome,” he replied with a pleasant smile. “I came earlier than usual, on account of the severe cold. I am glad you find the room comfortable.”
“I should not have liked to have been the one to make the fire this morning,” remarked one of the boys.“In many schools the scholars take turns in cleaning the room and making the fire.”
“It is not fair that they should do so,” observed another. “Their parents pay for their schooling, and it is not right that they should be obliged to spend their time and injure their clothes in sweeping rooms and making fires. It does well enough for those who cannot pay.”
“For shame! John Gray,” exclaimed William. “You should not speak so thoughtlessly. You trouble Louis,” he added in a whisper.
John was a kind-hearted boy, but rude and thoughtless in his manners.
“I do not wish to trouble Louis,” he said aloud. “I only spoke the truth.”
The color, which had deepened on Louis’s cheek, faded away, and he said, kindly,—
“You do not trouble me, John. I agree with you in thinking that those whose parents can pay for their schooling should not be expected to take care of the room. But as I am situated, I regard it as a very great favor that I am in this way enabled to earn my own schooling.”
“It is a great favor to us,” exclaimed several boys. “We never before had so neat and comfortable a room.”
The entrance of Mr. Grant, the teacher, preventedany farther conversation, and each boy quietly took his seat, and performed his accustomed duties.
At noon, there was fine sport with coasting and skating, but, in the midst of his play, William remembered his promise to his father; and, finding that Louis was not among his companions, he sought him in the school-house. He found him seated at his desk, busily engaged with a pencil and piece of paper.
“Come, Louis,” he exclaimed, “Come and play with us. There is fine skating on the pond.”
“Thank you,” replied Louis, “but I have no skates this winter. I had a pair once, but they are worn out.”
“Then I will lend you mine, and I will slide for a little while. I shall like that quite as well. Do come,” urged William; and, as he spoke, he approached the desk, and looked at the picture which Louis was drawing.
“Why, Louis!” he said, with an expression of surprise, “I had no idea that you could draw so beautifully. You almost equal our drawing-master. Who taught you?”
“No one,” replied Louis. “I love to draw. If it were not wrong to neglect other duties, I would spend every day in doing nothing else.”
“Why do you not take lessons with the rest of us, Louis? I am sure our drawing-master would be proudof such a pupil. How you would laugh at our strange-looking pictures!”
“Mr. Grant is very kind, to give me so many other advantages,” answered Louis; “I should not like to ask the privilege of a seat at the drawing-tables, and then the pencils and paper are quite an expense. And if I learned to paint, it would be still more expensive; but, oh! I should love to learn so much,” and his face grew bright with pleasure at the very thought.
“You must learn, Louis; I am resolved that you shall,” said William; “but come now, and have one good play before school.”
Thus urged, Louis joined his companions, and, encouraged by William’s example, all received him kindly, and were careful to allow him equal rights with themselves, and not to wound his feelings by foolish jokes and sarcastic observations.
About fifteen minutes before the hour for school to commence, William saw Mr. Grant enter the school-house, and, quietly leaving his play-fellows, he hastened to follow him.
Taking from Louis’s desk the picture upon which he had been so busily engaged at noon, he presented it to the teacher, saying,—
“Is not this pretty well done, sir?”
“Remarkably well,” replied Mr. Grant. “You have improved wonderfully, William.”
“It is not mine, sir. Louis did it. He has never had any instruction in drawing, but I am sure if you will allow him a seat at the drawing-tables, he will soon equal our drawing-master himself.”
“He shall have every advantage, certainly,” replied Mr. Grant. “I am pleased with your request, William; for I have observed with pain that some of the scholars regard Louis with feelings of contempt and dislike, which are certainly quite undeserved.”
“I have been in fault in this respect,” replied William, blushing deeply, “but my father has convinced me that such feelings are very wrong, and I am resolved to do better.”
“I am glad that you have made so good a resolution, William. Your example will help the other scholars to do right also. You may have the pleasure of telling Louis that he can receive regular instruction in drawing, on the afternoons when the drawing-master attends the school.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied William, and he joyfully returned to his play-fellows.
A few whispered words told Louis of what had passed, and the glow of pleasure which suffused his countenance, and the warm pressure of the hand, amply rewarded William for his kindness.
“I have pencils and paper enough for both, Louis,”he continued, “and I know my father will be glad to have me share them with you.”
The sound of the bell now summoned the whole party to the school-room, and as this was the afternoon for the drawing-master, William had the pleasure of seeing his new friend seated by his side, and of hearing the warm commendations which were bestowed upon the contents of his little portfolio, which, at the request of the teacher, Louis modestly exhibited.
Much of the ice in the streets had melted away, but the trees were still glittering in the bright sunlight, when William left the school-house and took the road toward home. To him everything seemed even more beautiful than it had done in the morning, for his heart was filled with that happiness which always results from doing good. His father met him at the door.
“Well, my son,” he said, “has it been a golden day with you?”
“It has, indeed, father,” replied William. “I have remembered what you told me, and I have already found an opportunity to do Louis some good.”
Mr. Mason listened with much interest to William’s little story, and gladly gave him leave to assist Louis, by lending him his own drawing implements.
It was pleasing to observe the effect which William’s example of friendliness to Louis had upon the rest of the scholars. He was no longer regarded with contemptor indifference, but became as great a favorite with the boys as a play-fellow, as he was with the master as a scholar. The younger boys looked to him for assistance in all their pleasures and troubles, for they found that he was always willing to give up his own pleasure for the sake of making them happy; and the older ones frequently assisted him in his duties in the school-room, in order to gain so valuable a companion in their plays.
His improvement in drawing and painting was so rapid, that, before many months had elapsed, the drawing-master declared he could teach him nothing more, and advised him to procure a situation in some of the large schools in the neighborhood, as teacher of these branches. But about this time circumstances occurred, which induced Mrs. Cunningham to remove to a distant part of the country, and Louis was obliged to bid farewell to his teachers and companions.
All parted from him with regret, but none felt the loss so keenly as William Mason. He had been the first among the boys to love Louis and endeavor to assist him; and, although the latter was some years older, a warm attachment had sprung up between them.
Many years passed before they again met. Both had grown to manhood, but the remembrance of their early days was still fresh in their minds. Williamwas travelling through the principal States of the Union, and stopped for the night in one of our most flourishing cities. In the course of the evening he visited, with some of his friends, a gallery of paintings which had been particularly recommended to his notice. The collection was a fine one, and an hour soon passed pleasantly away. At length William suddenly stopped before a small picture, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, which brought his friends to his side. The scene represented was not a remarkable one,—a bright winter’s morning, and a lad with a satchel of books and a pair of skates slung upon his shoulder, and a dinner-pail in his hand, quietly pursuing his way to school.
“What do you find surprising in this?” asked one of William’s companions. “It is a spirited little sketch, to be sure. That lad bears a strong resemblance to you, William.”
“It is myself,” exclaimed William; “and there is the old school-house in the distance, and the pond where we used to skate. Every object in the picture is familiar to me, even that old tree which seems so completely cased in ice. I must find the name of the artist.”
“That is easily ascertained,” replied his companion, turning to the catalogue which he held in his hand; “Cunningham, Louis Cunningham. There are severalother fine pictures in the gallery by the same person. Do you know him, William?”
“He is an old school-mate and particular friend,” replied William; “I must inquire if he resides in this city.”
Louis Cunningham’s address was easily obtained, and William had the pleasure of hearing him spoken of as a young artist of uncommon talents. At an early hour the following morning he sought his early friend, and received a warm welcome. Louis’s story was soon told. His mother’s situation in life had been improved, by a legacy left by a distant relative, and she was thus enabled to give her son many advantages. He had travelled in Europe, and received the best instruction in his favorite pursuit, and his name was now becoming widely known as one of our best American artists.
“But I have not forgotten the old school-house, and our boyish days, dear William,” he continued; “and I do not forget that my first instructions in drawing were received through your kindness. It was a bright day to me when I was first seated at the drawing-table, and allowed free access to your pencils and paper.”
“I remember it, as if it were but yesterday,” replied William. “We had indulged a strange prejudice against you up to that day, Louis. My father had labored hard that bright and beautiful morning, to showme the sin of which I was guilty, in indulging such feelings, and his words sunk deep in my heart. When I parted from him, at school time, he remarked on the beautiful appearance of the earth, clad in its robe of silver, but pointed out the new beauty it would receive when the rays of the sun should fall upon it; and he prayed that the rays of the spiritual sun might thus vivify and add new beauty to the good resolutions springing up in my mind, that the silver morning might become the golden day.”
“It was indeed a golden day to me,” said Louis, with emotion. “A fountain of kind feelings, which had been checked by the coldness of my companions, gushed forth at the kindness with which you treated me; and it seemed as if from that time all coldness toward me disappeared, and I was treated by all with kindness which I have ever remembered with gratitude. The little picture which you saw in the gallery is a proof of my remembrance of that day. You must take it to your father, as a token of my respect and love.”
“I will gladly do so,” replied William. “My father will receive it with pleasure, and it shall hang in our room as a memento of our early friendship, and of a day which I shall always remember with pleasing reflections.”