Amos Huntingdon

by William Henry Giles Kingston

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

  A SLIP ON THE ROAD.

  It will be remembered that Julia and Walter had an excursion to aneighbouring fashionable watering-place about five miles distant, andspent the day there while Amos was making his first call at his mother'sretreat, and that they returned in the evening out of spirits, somethingevidently having gone amiss with them. The incidents of that excursionwill sufficiently explain the cause of their depression.

  It can readily be understood that Walter's progress in the higher pathsof duty on which he had now sincerely entered was not at all timesequally rapid. He was always meaning well, and could "put on a spurtand row hard against the stream," as he himself expressed it, from timeto time, but the long, steady, and regular stroke he found it very hardto keep up. Naturally full of spirits, cherished and encouraged inthoughts of his own superiority, and accustomed, as long as he couldremember, to have pretty much his own way, it was no light thing for himto put a curb on his inclinations, or to check sudden impulses when theywere in the direction of what was dashing or generous. So that, whilehis deliberate convictions were on the side of all that was right, hewas very liable to be led to swerve a little from the narrow path whenany sudden strain was put upon him by his own natural or acquiredtastes, where he could not gratify these with a safe conscience.

  With Julia the case was different. Long had she resisted the hand thatwould have led her heavenwards by trial and sorrow. High-spirited,self-willed, and self-absorbed though not selfish, she had struggledlong against those cords of love which were drawing her out of thepathway of error and death. But she had yielded at last, and, havingyielded, she struggled no longer. Her one great and abiding desire nowwas to make progress on the higher road. Not that she had lost herrelish for amusement or her interest in outward things; but her spiritwas chastened,--a new light burned within her. Not that she lovedWalter less, but she loved Amos more; her heart was now more in unisonwith his, and she could now appreciate the delicacy, and deeptenderness, and consideration of his self-sacrificing love towardsherself, which she had in time past so cruelly flung back upon him, andoccasionally almost resented. So that now she felt it to be both herduty and her privilege to mark and copy the nobility of his unpretendingbut sterling character.

  Such were brother and sister as they cantered off along the sands on themorning when Amos set off to call on and consult Dr Atkin about hismother. It was a charming summer day. The sea was sparkling in itsnumberless wavelets; a gentle breeze blew with just so much pressure inthe faces of the riders as to add vigour to their spirits as theyplunged forward against it. Sea-birds wheeled round and round beforethem, and everything spoke of brightness and enjoyment. The five miles,partly along the sands and partly along roads skirting the edge of thecliffs, and affording a magnificent extent of sea-view, were sooncompleted. Walter was full of life and fun, only regretting that hecould not work up his sister into a mood as buoyant as his own.However, he did his best, and satisfied himself that it was only naturalthat the pressure of old sorrows could not yet be wholly taken off fromJulia's heart.

  And now they were come to the outskirts of the little town. It was theheight of the season, and gaiety and frolic seemed masters of the place.Old and young were to be met with at every turn, and, with theexception of the manifest invalids, all looked radiant with smiles, asthough determined--and who could blame them?--to extract as muchpleasure out of their little period of holiday as the place and itsoccupations could afford them. It so happened that the watering-placewas this day flooded with one or two large arrivals of excursionists.These had evidently come down with the intention of making the very mostof their time, and doing the whole thing thoroughly. Walter and hissister were highly entertained by watching some of these excursionists.Here, for instance, was the family of a worthy mechanic who were intenton getting the utmost possible out of the occasion that time and meanswould allow. Father, mother, children old and young, including a baby,with the wife's old father and mother, made up the party. Hasteningfrom the station to the beach, the whole family sat down together on thesands for some ten minutes or so, inhaling, with widely opened mouths,copious draughts of sea-air. Then the younger ones mounted donkeys, andthe father and mother each a pony, while the old folks looked on.Having raced about hither and thither on the jaded animals in abruptjerks of speed prompted by the resounding blows of the owners of theunfortunate brutes, all betook themselves to a sailing-boat; and landedagain after half-an-hour's sail, mostly pale, and with dismay in theirlooks, which manifestly proclaimed that "a life on the ocean wave" wascertainly not a life to their taste. Then the old grandfather called tothe driver of an open carriage, and took an airing in it with his wife,both sitting close behind the coachman with their backs to the horses,and leaving the best seat vacant, utterly unconscious that they wereoccupying the less desirable position, and smiling all the while blandlyon the general public, pleased to have, for once in a way, a littletaste of the pleasures of a higher grade of society than their own. Theride over, the entire party, baby and all, dived into some obscureregion, where an unlimited amount of hot water and stale shrimps couldbe had for a very trifling charge.

  While Walter and his sister were amusing themselves by watching theexcursionists, they became aware of being the object of notice to twoyoung men who were walking slowly along the esplanade near them. Butthey were so absorbed with what for the time had got their attention,that they failed to give any special heed to these strangers. Havingput up their horses, they made for the sea, and mingled with thenumerous comers and goers, keeping a special eye, from time to time, onthe mechanic's family and their doings. They were gazing down from theesplanade upon the busy crowds rushing backwards and forwards on thesands below them, when the two young men who had before noticed thempassed slowly by them, raising their hats. The two were Saunders andGregson. Now, it is true that Walter had, as he called it, dissolvedpartnership with these his old companions, and had not met them sincethe day of the sad disaster in the park; but, nevertheless, there stilllingered in his heart a measure of liking for them which he could notaltogether get rid of, and a certain amount of regret that allintercourse with them had been broken off. So he looked roundhesitatingly as he marked their salutation, and they noticed it. Againthey neared one another, and this time the young men smiled, and Walterreturned the smile. Then the two stopped, and Gregson said, "Come, oldfellow, shake hands; you've treated us rather shabbily to cut us as youhave done, but we cannot bear the thought of our old friendship being soeasily broken up. We've had many a jolly day together, and why shouldit not be so again?" He held out his hand, and Walter could not, or didnot, resist the impulse to grasp it warmly. Then Saunders must have asimilar grip, and Walter could not bring himself to refuse it. Afterthis Julia was introduced, and the four went about amicably together,the two young men warming up, as they saw Walter's resolution meltingaway, and rattling on with all sorts of light and frivolous talk, whichgrated sadly on the ear and heart of Julia Vivian.

  It was now one o'clock, when Gregson exclaimed, "You must all come tothe Ship, and dine at my expense. Nay, my dear old fellow"--addressingWalter--"I'll not hear of a refusal. You know how I let you in for thatsecond sovereign at the match, when Jim Jarrocks won so cleverly. Ididn't mean it, of course, but you must allow me the pleasure of makingsome little amends by having you and your sister as my guests to-day."Julia tried, by a gentle pressure of her brother's arm, to dissuade himfrom accepting the invitation, but without avail. Walter felt that hewas now "in for it," and must go through with it. So the fourcompanions walked to the Ship Hotel, and partook of an excellent dinnerordered by Gregson, in a private room which commanded a full view of thesea and the crowds of pleasure-seekers who were swarming along thesands. Both the young host and his friend Saunders drank wine and beerfreely. Walter, who had never been given to excess, was more cautious;but partly from the excitement of the occasion, and partly, it may be,to drown some uncomfortable whisperin
gs of conscience, he took more ofthese stimulating drinks than he would have thought of doing underordinary circumstances, and the result was that he was prepared, whenthe meal was over, to take his part in any scheme of fun or frolic thathis new companions might propose. Julia saw this with deep shame andregret, but she also saw that now was not the time to remonstrate. Shedid speak to her brother, as they were leaving the hotel, aboutreturning at once, as she did not wish to be late; but Walter replied inan impatient tone that there was plenty of time, and they might as wellhave a little bit of fun first. So, with trembling heart she took hisarm as they emerged on to the esplanade, resolved that, at any rate,come what might, she would keep close to her brother, and be as much acheck upon him as possible.

  The four now made their way to the sands. As they did so, they observeda considerable number of the visitors making their way in a body towardsa spot where a crowd had evidently assembled. "What's up now?" criedGregson. "Let us go and see." They all joined the stream of walkers,and at last reached a spot where a large company of listeners weregathered round a group of men, some of whom were distributing tractsamong the people, while one with a grave but pleasing countenance,standing on a stout oak stool which was firmly planted among theshingles, was giving out a verse of a popular hymn preparatory toaddressing the spectators.

  "Ain't this capital?" said Gregson to Walter and Saunders in a loudwhisper. "Won't we just have a rare bit of fun!" He then spoke in alow voice in Saunders's ear, and the young man stole round to theopposite side of the crowd. When the hymn had been sung, and thespeaker was in the very act of commencing his discourse, a loud mew fromGregson, who was affecting to look very solemn, made the good man pause.He made a second attempt; but now a noise as of two cats fightingviolently came from the opposite side of the concourse. The poorpreacher looked sadly disconcerted; but when the pretended mewing andwrangling were continued, the sense of the ludicrous seemed to prevailin the crowd over everything else, and there was one general outburst oflaughter, in which no one joined more heartily than Walter. The crowdbegan to surge backwards and forwards, and many to move off. But thepreacher still maintained his stand. "Come here! come here!" criedGregson in an undertone to Walter. Julia felt her brother suddenlydisengage his arm from hers, and then he was lost in the crowd. A fewminutes later, and there was a movement among the audience--if it couldnow be called an audience--in the rear of the speaker; and during theconfusion, Julia, who was gazing intently on the spot where the preacherstood, saw two faces crouching down for a moment. One was Gregson's,the other was Walter's; and then two hands clutched the legs of thestool, and the preacher was pitched head-foremost into the sand. A roarof mirth followed this performance, but it soon gave place to cries of"Shame! shame!" Then there was a lull, and then a profound silence, asthe good man who had been so cruelly used planted his feet firmly amongthe shingles, and said in a clear and unfaltering voice, "My friends,may the Lord forgive these misguided young men for their uncalled-forand unprovoked interference and ridicule! But their malice shall notstop the good work. Here I stand to preach God's truth; and here I meanto stand, if the Lord will, every day during the season, opposition orno opposition, persecution or no persecution. Let us sing another verseof a hymn." Amidst the profoundest stillness, and evidently with thehearty sympathy of the bulk of his hearers, the good evangelistproceeded with his holy work.

  "Come along! come along!" whispered Gregson, creeping round to Walter,who had now regained his sister, and was feeling heartily ashamed ofhimself. They all hastened back to the hotel. Walter was nowthoroughly subdued, and with a very cold leave-taking of his formerfriends, he and his sister sought their horses, and made the best oftheir way to the cottage, exchanging but few words as they rode along.Such was the shameful and sorrowful ending of what had promised to be avery happy day.

  And now, when Mrs Huntingdon had been a few days established in thecottage, by her own earnest request, and with the hearty concurrence ofher children, their aunt came over to spend a little time with them.This she could the more easily do as her brother was fully occupied withhis endeavours to secure the return of the candidate whose politics heagreed with. Surely there can be few, who have a large circle ofrelations of different degrees of nearness, who have not among thesesome pre-eminently special ones who draw to themselves a more thanordinary share of affection from all their kindred--a special sister, orbrother, or cousin, who does not however, make others less loved, whilebeing the privileged object of a peculiarly tender regard. Such aspecial aunt was Miss Huntingdon to all her nephews and nieces. A visitfrom her was everywhere hailed with rejoicing. And so now every heartwas glad when she joined the little party at the sea-side cottage. ToMrs Huntingdon the coming of her sister-in-law was eminentlybeneficial; for her tender love, her wise and judicious counsels, herearnest prayers, all helped to establish the restored mother in ahealthful and happy tone of mind, and were the means of guiding her tothat perfect peace which dwells nowhere but in the hearts of those whohave sought and found in their Saviour the friend who loves above allothers.

  When Miss Huntingdon had been at the cottage two or three days, and waswalking with Amos and Walter by the ebbing waves, Julia having remainedbehind with her mother, Walter suddenly stopped, and said, "Auntie, Ihave something very sad to tell you, and I want your advice."

  Both his aunt and Amos looked at him with surprise and anxiety, and thenthe former said, "Well, dear boy, I am sorry that there should beanything troubling you; but if I can be of any use or comfort to you inthe matter. I shall be only too glad."

  "Sit down here then, Aunt Kate, if you please, on this bank; and if youare not both of you heartily ashamed of me and disgusted with me when Ihave told you all, well, you ought to be."

  When all three were seated, Walter fully related his adventure at thewatering-place, concluding with the attack upon the preacher, laying afull share of blame on himself, and ending with the words, "Now, dearauntie, what do you say to that?"

  Both his hearers looked very grave, and were silent for some time. Atlast Miss Huntingdon, laying her hand lovingly on Walter's shoulder,said, "Dear boy, it is certainly a sad story, but you were led into whatyou did from want of watchfulness; and as you are now aware of yourfault, and are sorry for it, I should not, if I were you; needlesslydistress myself, but just make, if you can, some amends."

  "Ah! that's the point," cried Walter; "you mean, of course, make someamends to the good preacher. Yes, that can be done, for he said heshould be at his post at the same hour every day during the season. Butit will require some moral courage to do it, and no little of thatvaluable article too. Now I am sure, dear auntie, you have in thatcabinet of your memory one drawer at least full of examples of moralcourage, and you can pick me out one to suit this case."

  "Yes, dear boy," said his aunt, smiling, "I daresay I can; for eversince you first asked me to help you in the matter of moral courage byexamples drawn from real life, I have been noticing and storing up inone of these drawers you speak of whatever instances of moral couragehave come before me in my reading."

  "What, then, is it to be to-day, dear Aunt Kate? Can you find me onethat will show me how I ought to act in this sad business?"

  After reflecting for a few minutes, Miss Huntingdon began: "I haverather a strange moral hero to mention now, and yet he is a most realone. His name is James Comley. He was for years a confirmed infidel--amost intelligent man, but in utter spiritual darkness. He lived atNorwich, and carried on the business of a tea-dealer. He hadindoctrinated his wife and children with his own infidel views, and hadnever lost an occasion of publicly assailing the truths of religion.But at last he was brought to see the misery of his condition. Heprayed earnestly for light, and God gave it him at last, and he became atruly changed man. And now, mark his conduct after this change hadtaken place. He at once tore down some lying placards which covered theshutters of his shop and the whole front of his house--placards whichstated that his tea business was `Th
e Eastern Branch of the GreatEuropean Tea Company,' which company, in fact, had no existence. Hedisposed of about seventy empty tea-chests, which had been so arrangedin his shop as to suggest the idea of an immense stock. A huge bale ofunused placards he carried into the Norwich market-place, where headdressed the crowd that awaited his arrival, and then carried thisbundle of lies to Mousehold Heath, where, after the singing of a hymn,praying, and addressing the crowd which had accompanied him, hecommitted it to the flames. He after this began publicly to preach thatgospel which for nine years in Norwich he had done his best to destroy.Here was true moral courage indeed; and perhaps his example may be ahelp to you, dear Walter, in showing you what you ought to do."

  Her nephew had listened with the deepest interest, and now remainedburied in thought. At length he said: "True, dear auntie; I see it all;my duty is plain enough. James Comley had publicly insulted God andreligion, and he made amends as far as he could do so. At any rate heshowed his sincerity by coming out boldly as an honest man, and as onewho was sorry for the past, by his publicly burning those placards andthen preaching the truth which he used to deny and revile. And I oughtto do the same. I mean that, as I did a public wrong in open daylight,and before many people, to that good man at Stringby, so my duty is togo over to Stringby and just as publicly to confess to him, and to thepeople who may be there, and in open daylight, my sorrow for what I did.That's just it, auntie, is it not?"

  "It will certainly be making the best use of my example, dear boy," shereplied, "and will be showing true moral courage; but no doubt it willinvolve much self-denial, and require much strength from the only truefountain of strength."

  "It shall be done, and to-morrow," said Walter firmly.

  "Would it be any comfort or help to you if I were to go with you?" askedAmos.

  "The greatest comfort in the world," cried his brother joyfully; "yes,and let Julia come too. She was grieved to see me led away as I was,and it will therefore be a happiness to me if she will come with us andhear my confession."

  And so it was arranged.