"What shall we do with him, Wilkins?"
"Give him the embroidery department. His hands are just fit for such delicate work, and besides it will just put him under my eye."
"Poh! he'll make such ruinous mistakes, that I'll never be able to stand it, sir. Give him Harper's place in the thread and tape, up here, then he'll be under my eye."
Guly shuddered.
"He'll do well, sir, in the place I propose," Wilkins returned quietly, but firmly. "With a little instruction, I'll answer for him; and there's a freer circulation of air down there, something he needs."
"Well, take him along, and see what you can do with him. I expect nothing more than that he'll die on my hands, before he's earned enough to pay his funeral expenses."
Wilkins turned, and beckoned the boy to follow him.
CHAPTER IV.
The First Sunday at Church.
Wilkins was head clerk in the establishment, and although he had all the books to keep, his work was lighter than that of any of the rest. He went to work later in the morning, and left it earlier at night. Besides being book-keeper, he was a sort of a superintendent of the whole concern; and the clerks looked up to him as second only to the proprietor himself. To win Wilkins' favor was to propitiate Mr. Delancey: a fact well known, and acted upon.
Guly's beauty, or gentle disposition, had evidently gained for him, through Wilkins, the best stand in the store. His work was light and agreeable, he had no heavy lifting to do, and the Beautiful, which in any form was delightful to him, was constantly before his eyes. In addition to this, the clerk who stood next to him, on his right hand, was a most estimable and kind young man, of the name of Hull; who used every effort to assist his young neighbor, in learning to correctly perform his work, and by his own example, taught him patiently to endure its tediousness. This, together with the frequent and kindly-tendered instructions of Wilkins, enabled Guly, who was naturally very quick, to readily acquire the knowledge requisite for his situation; and with his brother, nearly opposite, to speak to occasionally, and to see all the time, he felt that he was highly favored.
As Mr. Delancey had never shown any interest in the matter of their board, they still continued to "victual," as Wilkins called it, at the restaurant, and sleep at the store. By dint of working a little before going to bed every night, the brothers, without reminding Wilkins of his promise to "see to it," had managed to make their sleeping apartment present a very habitable appearance.
As every moment of their time, since their arrival, had been taken up with business, they remained in their room the first Sunday, without going to church; feeling that for each of them to pour into the fond breast of their distant mother all the thoughts, feelings, and events, which they had experienced since they had left her side, would be as acceptable to Him whose day it was, as to attend church, leaving her to mourn in anxious uncertainty as to their safety or happiness. The succeeding Sabbath, however, they rose early, and, after performing their devotional exercises, prepared themselves to attend public worship.
While waiting for the bell to ring, they sought Wilkins, for the purpose of inquiring what church Mr. Delancey attended. Wilkins had taken possession of the merchant's seat at the high desk when they found him, and, as usual had his coat off, reading.
He looked up, apparently a good deal surprised, as they put the question to him, and exclaimed, rather dryly:
"Why, you don't say you're going to church!"
"Certainly, Mr. Wilkins. Won't you go with us?"
"Ah! not I."
"Do you never go?"
"I used to, but it was a long time ago. You forget that I have been in New-Orleans five years."
"No, we don't forget that. Mr. Hull said, the other day, that Mr. Delancey would never get as good a clerk as you again, or one that would be as faithful, and remain with him so long. But does being here a few years make any difference about going to church?"
"I'm afraid you'll find so."
"How can you spend so much unoccupied time without church, Wilkins?" said Guly, earnestly, stepping up on the chair round, and seating himself quietly on the head clerk's knee.
Wilkins flung down the novel he had been reading, and, reaching out his strong arms, clasped both hands round the slender figure sitting there, and, throwing back his head, looked thoughtfully into the boy's blue eyes.
"I spend it," said he, at length, speaking in a suppressed voice, and more as if talking to himself than another, "in racing on the Shell Road, in betting on fast horses, in excursions out of town, and in visiting"-he stopped short, then added, through his shut teeth, after an instant's pause-"places which I hope to God you'll never know more about than you do now."
"Are you going to the race-course to-day?" asked Guly, suddenly lifting his head.
"I don't feel quite well. No, I reckon not," returned Wilkins, disjointedly, and moving uneasily in his chair.
"I weary you," said the boy, gently essaying to leave his seat on the head clerk's knee.
"No! no! you don't!" cried the other, eagerly; and suddenly drawing the bright head down upon his bosom, he added, in a voice of deep emotion, "Oh, that I had you always thus to lie upon my heart, and keep the evil out!"
The church bell at this moment began to ring, and, having ascertained where the Episcopal Church was, the brothers started forth, and, arm-in-arm, walked briskly forward. Whenever Guly looked back at the tall store, towering up above its brick-and-mortar neighbors so proudly, he thought of Wilkins sitting in there in the gloom, all alone, and wishing for some one to lay upon his heart, and keep the evil out.
When they reached the church, Arthur asked the sexton if Mr. Delancey's pew was full, and, on being informed there was no one in it but himself and wife, he desired to be shown to it. It was situated quite at the head of the aisle, near the pulpit; and the sexton's hand was on the door, before the merchant, who was sitting in his usual position, bolt upright, in the pew, noticed their approach.
When his eyes fell upon his two new clerks, the frown between his eyes deepened very visibly, while his whole face wore a look of angry astonishment. Holding the door shut, as the sexton, with his best bow, attempted to open it, Mr. Delancey leaned out, and, in a harsh whisper to Arthur, which was loud enough to reach Guly's ear, exclaimed:
"What the devil do you want? I hope you don't expect to sit with me? Up gallery with you! There's seats enough for your class there."
So saying, the merchant jerked himself back, and, resuming his stiff position in the pew, looked straight ahead with his stony eyes, as if utterly unconscious of any one else.
With burning cheeks the brothers took their way down the carpeted aisle, and reached the pillared porch.
"I'm not going up there to sit," said the elder brother, proudly; "if there is no place for me below, there is no place for me in the gallery;" and flinging off the gentle hand that would have detained him, he sprang down the granite steps, and started at a rapid pace down the street.
Guly stood for a moment, gazing anxiously after him, half-tempted to follow, but seeing his brother took the direction towards the store, he decided to remain, and mounting the winding stairs, found himself in the spacious but scantily peopled gallery.
Guly's was a pure mind, unaccustomed to drawing sarcastic comparisons, or indulging in bitter fancies; but, as he looked down into the body of the church, he could not help wondering to himself which were the most acceptable in God's sight: the mass of life, bowing and swaying in their costly array of silks and laces, and fine cloth, kneeling on their velvet cushions, and bending their brows upon their jeweled hands, or the few earnest and devout, seated in the unornamented gallery, kneeling upon bare floors, seated on uncushioned benches, bending their hearts in simple worship to Him whose Word they came to hear.
CHAPTER V.
The Broken Sabbath.
As soon as Arthur's rapid walking had taken him out of sight of the church, he slackened his pace, and walked moodily on along the almost deserted b
anquette, towards the Levee. Still smarting from the wound his pride had received, his cheeks burning with the flush of anger, and his heart heavy at the remembrance of his unkind words to Guly, the youth looked anxiously about for something to divert his thoughts, and while away the hours till church was out, when he hoped to rejoin his brother, and with him return to their apartment.
At this moment, however, he received a hearty slap upon his shoulder; and turning quickly, saw one of the clerks of the store, well known to be of low and dissolute habits, but who managed to retain his place by steady application to business during business hours.
Hitherto, Arthur had never had anything to say to him, beyond what was necessary in the store, having intuitively shunned him as an unfit associate. Now, however, he felt that any companion was better than solitude, for the unoccupied Sabbath hours; and although a sense of shame filled his breast, that he should ever have given the opportunity to such a man to approach him thus familiarly, he crushed it with an effort, and extending his hand, exclaimed, in a hearty tone:
"Glad to see you, Quirk; whither bound?"
"Anywhere that I can get company," returned the other, giving Arthur's hand a close grasp. "This is the only day, you know, that a clerk has to himself, and I always make it a point to have a deuce of a time to begin the week with."
And the fellow burst into a loud laugh.
Arthur withdrew his hand hastily, and an expression of disgust swept over his fine features. The quick eye of the other did not fail to detect it, and, eager to retain the vantage he had gained, he said:
"You musn't mind my easy expressions, Pratt; they come to me somehow like second nature, and I can't help them; just let 'em pass; and tell me what you'd like to visit to-day, and what you'd like to see, and I'll show it to you; for there's no sight in this city that I ain't as used to as measuring tape."
"I've never been accustomed to go sight-seeing on Sunday," said Arthur, in a hesitating tone.
"That was because you were never accustomed to working every week-day before."
"No, it was because I was strictly taught to 'Remember the Sabbath-day, and keep it holy.'"
"Fiddlesticks! all that'll do in the North, where folks put on their long faces every Sunday, and go to church, rain or shine, and don't cook any dinners, and don't read anything but pious books, but such things ain't expected here of anybody. Why, this is always a holiday here-the military companies are always drilled on Sunday, the best races are reserved for Sunday, the best plays at the theatre are on Sunday nights, and so are the best balls. Ha! ha! to talk of keeping this day holy here."
"You shock me!" said Arthur, with a shudder.
"Just what every young prig from the North is sure to say at first, but they get to be one of the 'fast ones' at last. I was quite sober myself when I first came here. I was from the land of steady habits, ye see-the only son of my mother, and she was a widder; but she died, and nobody cared for me here, so I just joined the b'hoys, and learned how to enjoy myself."
"I'll tell you what we'll do!" exclaimed Quirk, after another short pause, "we'll just take the cars, and go to Carrolton. That's a fine place, and it can't hurt your conscience any to visit it. Even the ministers ride up there on Sundays sometimes."
"How soon could we return? By the time church is out?"
"Oh, we can come back any minute we like. Hurrah! Now hop in, or we'll be left."
The cars were just on the point of leaving, and they were obliged to run in order to catch their chance. The moment of reflection did not come to Arthur till he had taken his seat, and was rapidly moving away. If there came any pangs of conscience then, they were, from a dread of ridicule, studiously concealed from his companion, and consoling himself with the thought that it now was too late to repent, he gave himself up to the full enjoyment of his ride.
After leaving the city, as the charming suburban retreats, one by one, came out upon his view, Arthur eagerly regarded each one, appreciating its brightness and freshness all the more from his recent confinement in the city. The clear sloping meadows, the rural cottages, the fresh air, all served to enliven and cheer him; and, as the cars were crowded with pleasure-seekers, like himself, he forgot it was Sunday, and was happy in his forgetfulness.
Near Carrolton a beautiful wood burst upon his sight, skirting either side of the track, and casting soft deep shadows on the bright green sward beneath the branches. The trees were of noble growth, and from every limb hung pendant the tattered sheets of long gray moss, so common in the South, and so solemn and sombre in their effect.
"Was there ever anything more beautiful, even on the banks of my own Hudson!" exclaimed Arthur, enraptured at the scene. "Can we not persuade the conductor to stop, and let us down? I would enjoy a stroll there."
"Nonsense!" returned his companion. "I can't go with you if you go there. I have a horror of that swinging moss, and can't bear to be near it. Those trees always make me think of ghosts, with rotten shrouds on 'em."
"That's a fine comparison, Charley," said a clear, sarcastic voice near them; and a young man, bearing the unmistakable stamp of the genteel loafer about him, stretched out a small white hand, with a large diamond glittering on the little finger, and shook Charley's over the back of the seat.
He was quite a youth, apparently not over twenty years of age; but there was an expression in his eye which would lead one to believe him older. It was an eye old in cunning, old in craft, and old in sin. It was small, deep-set, and of piercing blackness. His hair was of a soft chestnut, and curled slightly at the ends. His lips were thin, and his complexion sallow. His dress, in every article, was of the finest material, but arranged with a decidedly foppish taste; and, somehow or other, his whole appearance reminded one of those large bills, stuck up in depots, with "Beware of Pickpockets" on them.
Charley leaned back, after shaking hands with him, and whispered something in his ear; then, nodding to Arthur, said:
"Mr. Pratt, I'll make you acquainted with Mr. Clinton. Mr. Clinton, Mr. Pratt."
Arthur bowed, and accepted the hand cordially extended to him, and politely expressed his pleasure at the acquaintance.
"Well, just consider me one of you from this hour," said Clinton, rising, and turning his seat so that he might face his friends. "Just confide to me your intentions for to-day, and you'll find I'm with you, heart and hand."
Charley tipped a sly wink at him, unperceived by Arthur, and answered:
"We're only going to Carrolton, to stroll through the gardens; that's all."
"Ah, yes; going to contemplate the beauties of nature. I understand. Just so. Glad to hear it; for, of all things in the world, it's just what will suit me best. Just consider me one of you."
Arthur eyed his new friend with considerable curiosity, as he let off these little explosive sentences, and withdrew his eyes with an unsatisfied look, as the other ceased speaking.
"He evidently," thought he, "wants to seem a gentleman, and don't know how."
"Here we are!" cried Clinton, as the train stopped. "Now, my dear friends, let's hasten to leave these clattering cars, where I scarcely can breathe. Ah! you perceive this beautiful scenery has already inspired me. I s'pose, Mr. Pratt, you didn't know I was a poet before, did you?"
"I was certainly not previously aware of your poetical talents, Mr. Clinton," returned Arthur, laughing, "but I shall never doubt it again."
"That's right, my boy. Like your candor. You're excusable for not noticing before that I was a genius. It was no doubt merely because you didn't look closely in my face. Any one can see it who does. There's the pretty Miss Julia Tippet, she declares she'd know me for one through a pair of green spectacles."
So saying, Mr. Clinton sprang to the ground, and being a little taller than the other two, he familiarly passed an arm over their shoulders as he stepped between them, and so passed on through the garden gate.
As they trod the neat shell walks, and inhaled the fragrance of the many blooming flowers, Arthur enthusiastica
lly expressed his delight; and Mr. Clinton, suddenly drew in a long breath through his nostrils, and exclaimed, at the same time striking an attitude:-
"Delightful spot! I know not what could e'er draw hence my willing feet,
Unless it be a chance I see, for some kind friend to stand a treat."
"There!" bringing down his right hand, with a hearty whack upon his knee, "if I haven't been off again into one of my spontaneous bursts of poetical effusion! Who ever saw that beat?"
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared Charley. "I take the hint; what'll you have; mint-juleps for three, or three for old Cogniac?"
"Thank you," said Arthur, as he met Charley's inquiring glance. "Nothing for me. I never indulge."
"Oh, you must have something, if it's nothing more than lemonade with a stick in it," returned Charley.
"Hurry up your pegs there, Charley!" cried Clinton, at the top of his voice. "Pratt's getting faint, and wants something to strengthen him!"
This was said in such a good humored hope-I-don't-offend manner, that Arthur could not repress a smile; and while the smile was on his lips the drinks arrived, and he received his with a bow. That he considered it good, was very evident from the manner in which he drank it, an act which Quirk and Clinton watched narrowly, over the brims of their glasses.
Arthur experienced no more pangs of conscience that day; neither did he recall his intended return by the time church was out. After drinking, his companions used every effort to make themselves agreeable, and showed him over the extensive grounds, strolled through the shady avenue on the Levee with him, and then, as the day was warm, declared themselves thirsty, and proposed that Arthur should treat them.
He eagerly assented, and for the first time in his life marched boldly into the bar-room, and ordered three strong drinks, all of the same description.
Then a military company arrived, and the excitement of the drill, the sound of the martial music, and the fresh uniform of the soldiers, combined with the noise and bustle of railroad travel, and the crowd of lookers on, seemed to dispel all remembrance of Sunday, and the whole afternoon passed in this way, in what then seemed real enjoyment.
The Brother Clerks; A Tale of New-Orleans. Page 3