VICTORINE DUROCHER.

BY MRS. SHERWOOD.

london: darton and co., holborn hill. 1849-50.

p. 2London: GEORGE WOODFALL AND SON, angel court, skinner street.

p. 3THE YOUNG LORD; and THE TRIAL OF ADVERSITY.

BY MRS. NEWTON CROSLAND, (late camilla toulmin.)

p. 5THE YOUNG LORD.

“Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust do corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. “But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”—St. Matt. vi. 19, 20, 21.

“How can we reward the little boy who has so honestly brought me the bracelet I lost at church yesterday?” said Mrs. Sidney to her only son Charles, who was now passing the Midsummer vacation with his widowed mother, at a pretty cottage in Devonshire, which had been the home of his early years.

“I do not think people should be rewarded p. 6for common honesty,” said Charles; “and the clasp contained such an excellent likeness of papa, whom every one in the village knew, that it would have been unsafe as well as dishonest for him not to have delivered it up.”

“I am sorry to find, Charles,” said Mrs. Sidney, “that school has not weakened those selfish feelings which have so often caused me pain. You seem to me to think that every trifling gift I bestow upon another is robbing you; and, worse than all, I find you constantly wresting phrases from their real meaning to answer your own purposes. Thus, I agree with you that people should not look upon common honesty as anything beyond a simple duty which they would be culpable not to perform. But I am as well assured that honesty, even in this world, meets with its reward, as I am that it is our duty, when we find the poor and uneducated distinguished by this quality, to show our sense of it, and so make ourselves the instruments of this earthly reward, by every means in our power. I addressed you, Charles, on the subject, because I fondly hoped it would give you pleasure to offer some assistance in the matter; besides which, I thought that you might be more likely to hit upon something which in p. 7a pleasing manner would be of service to a boy of your own

age—although only a cottager’s child—than I could be. I am disappointed in this expectation, however, and can think of no other plan than giving him a small present in money, with some of your old clothes; he is, if anything, less than you, so there is very little doubt of the latter being of use to him.”

Now it happened that the honest little boy, who was named Thomas Bennett, had stood in the hall the whole time, and thus overheard the conversation. I am sure that you cannot wonder that he remembered it, with feelings far removed from love or gratitude to Charles Sidney.

Any one who observed Charles Sidney, while his mamma examined his wardrobe to find what clothes she might choose to spare, would have been shocked at perceiving the selfish expression of his countenance.

It seemed absolute pain for him to part even with articles which, he having quite outgrown them, were utterly useless to him, and which very likely the moths would soon have destroyed: for to accumulate and keep made the rule of his life. You may imagine what a serious trouble this unhappy disposition of her son was to Mrs. Sidney, who felt perhaps the more from p. 8contrasting his character with that of an elder brother, who had died from a lingering illness about two years previously, and who had been equally distinguished for a generous nature, which had sometimes led him to the opposite extreme of improvidence.

Indeed, poor Frank had been known to debar himself of necessary comforts for the sake of assisting others. His pocket money was given away within an hour of its being received; his books were often torn or lost, from being indiscriminately lent; and the cold he caught, which led to his fatal illness, had been occasioned by his leaving a warm upper coat, which he had been accustomed to wear, to add to the bed covering of a poor sick child, whom he had gone out one cold winter’s day to visit. Now, though it was impossible for any one to help dearly loving so amiable and generous a character as Frank, his parents had found it necessary gently to reprove his exceeding and indiscriminate generosity, by pointing out to him that it was even wrong when it tended to injure his own health, or to encroach on the rights of others. On such occasions Mr. and Mrs. Sidney had explained to him that their income was limited, so that their acts of benevolence must consist less in absolute p. 9gifts of money (alas! some persons think there is no

other way of doing good), than in the bestowal of time and advice on the poor, and a degree of judgment in the distribution of what they had to give, which would make that little of its greatest service.

Charles had often been present at these conversations, and the allusions Mrs. Sidney made to his fault of wresting phrases from their real meaning, had reference to the evil manner in which he applied these warnings to himself—so unnecessary for one of his character: warnings which nothing but the indiscriminate profusion of Frank could have tempted Mr. and Mrs. Sidney to utter. I mention these circumstances because I am afraid we are all too much inclined to find excuses for our faults; to do which, we generally apply maxims suitable only to the opposite extreme of our own failings. And this was precisely the case with the little selfish miser. The death of Mr. Sidney, which had occurred suddenly, had followed quickly upon that of Frank; but, amid all the widow’s affliction, she never forgot the sorrow that Charles’s selfish disposition occasioned her. There was no longer even the shadow of an excuse for parsimony, as the inheritance which would have been divided between the two p. 10brothers would now devolve on the only son. Charles knew this: he knew that he was provided

with a sufficient fortune to finish his education admirably, to send him to college, and start him in a profession. But this made no difference in his disposition; he continued to hoard money and books, and everything that came in his way, as if each individual article were the last he ever could expect to have.

It so happened that Charles had several cousins, the children of a younger brother of Mr. Sidney, and whose characters formed a strong contrast to his own. Their father had been a clergyman, and though they had been bereaved of him when very young, they had never forgotten the lessons of piety he had bequeathed to them.

The two Mrs. Sidneys were also sisters, and having married two brothers, the families seemed as it were doubly cemented.

Now Mr. William Sidney, the younger brother, having five children, between whom his fortune was divided, these cousins had each just one-fifth of Charles’s expectations, and, of course, Mrs. William Sidney was obliged to limit many of their present indulgences in due proportion to her income.

And yet I need scarcely tell you that William, p. 11the eldest son, who was about the same age as Charles, and his younger brothers and sisters, were a thousand times happier than their cousin; and, even with their limited means, did more good to others in a month than Charles did in a year.

In the first place, they were kind and generous to each other. A book, a toy, any source of gratification that was opened to one, was always made the property of the whole family; so that a present or kindness to one of these children, was like bestowing it on five. Then the little girls, Fanny and Lucy, were so clever and industrious, that they would make clothes for the poor, either by purchasing coarse but warm materials with their own money, or from cast off frocks of their own, which their mamma gave them permission so to employ. Like all those who think more of other persons than themselves, and who are constantly enjoying the pleasure of doing good, they were light-hearted and happy; while their cousin Charles, who thought of nothing but his own selfish interests, was three days out of the four in bad spirits and bad temper.

“How I should like to rummage out that closet,” said William one day to his cousin, p. 12when he had chanced to have a peep into his receptacle for what he had hoarded.

“Would you, indeed,” replied Charles, “I can tell you there is nothing there which would be of the least use to you.”

“That is good,” returned William, with a hearty laugh; “not that I want anything you have stowed away, but if it could be of no use to me, what use is it to you? answer me that, Charles!”

“I tell you there is nothing there but old childish toys and baby books, things that I have not looked at for years.”

“Then why don’t you turn them out, and give them to some children, or let the little creatures have a scramble for them? It would be capital fun, that it would. Suppose you were to give them to the young Bennetts; I told them the other day I would beg some of your old toys for them. It would be such a pleasure, I am sure, to make them a present. Poor children, you know, have seldom anything of the kind.”

“How you talk!”

“How I talk!” continued William, “to be sure; besides, I hate waste, and it is just as much waste to shut things up which might be of use, as it would be to burn them; more, I p. 13think, for if they make firewood, that is proving of some use. Now don’t be such a miser, Charles, do turn them out.”

“I shall do no such thing!” exclaimed Charles, in an angry tone, “and as for your extravagance, it is quite shocking; I wonder what you think is to become of you when you are a man.”

“I tell you what I expect,” replied William, throwing some apples from his pocket out of window to a poor child who was passing; “what I expect is, to have to work very hard for my living, and, as I am the eldest, I look upon it that I ought to do something for mamma, and the girls into the bargain. But for all that I hope I shall never turn a miserly screw. Why, when God gives us health, food, clothing, and lodging, don’t you think that hoarding and hoarding, instead of dispensing the blessings, and performing such acts of kindness as may be in our power to bestow, is like doubting God’s goodness and mercy for the future?”

“One would think you were preaching,” said Charles, with a sneer.

“Well, never mind if I am; it was only yesterday I was reading one of dear papa’s sermons, in which he quotes one of the most beautiful p. 14chapters in the New Testament, the 12th of St. Luke, in which our Saviour speaks of the ravens, which ‘God feedeth,’ though ‘they neither sow nor reap;’ and of the ‘lilies, how they grow.’ And He emphatically says, ‘Seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind. For all these things do the nations of the world seek after; and your Father knoweth ye have need of all these things. But rather seek ye the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you.’”

“Besides,” continued William, after a slight pause, “it seems to me that nature is constantly repeating the lesson which Scripture teaches us. See how, year after year, the blades of wheat spring up, and the fruits of the earth ripen, as if to warn us that we should distribute the good things God provides us with, and wholly trust that he will continue to send us all things that are needful.”

“Pray did you find that in the sermon, also?” asked Charles.

“Perhaps I did.”

“Did it say anything about the ten talents—where we are told that unto every one that hath shall be given, but from him that hath not shall p. 15be taken away even that which he hath?” replied Charles, with an air of triumph.

“Do you understand the text you have quoted?” asked William, mildly.

“I suppose so, I should think it rather taught people to increase their stores than anything else.”

“Then let me tell you that you are quite wrong, for that was a text I used to hear papa explain very often, that it should never be applied to worldly possessions. But those who pray for, and seek by every means to acquire, heavenly grace will surely find it bestowed on them; while those who neglect to cultivate the spirit of religion will as surely find any feelings of piety they may once have experienced in like manner depart from them. Every human being has the power, more or less, of doing good: and his means and opportunities are also among the ‘talents’ with which he is intrusted, and for which he must account at last.”

“Have you done preaching?” yawned the little miser.

“Yes, for I am afraid you are beyond my teaching.” And so the cousins parted.

Charles sat musing for a little while. “How happy William seems!” thought he; “and yet I p. 16dare say at this moment he has not half-a-crown he can call his own. It is very fine of him, indeed, to talk of turning out the closet, he who has got nothing to keep.”

And so reasoned the selfish boy, amusing himself with gazing upon a shelf full of baby toys he could take no pleasure in using, but yet which he had not the heart to give away; and then he jingled a money-box, which was heavy enough to tell there were many, many coins inside, and yet he drew from his pocket a shilling, which he slipped through the narrow chink, thus adding to his useless store.

Oh! sad it is to believe that no thought of gratitude to the Almighty for the blessings with which he was surrounded; no prayer for guidance from on high rose in his heart; no thought of the duty of cultivating the “talents” which had fallen to his share.

Two or three years passed away, and notwithstanding the exhortations of Mrs. Sidney, and the bright examples of his cousins, no amendment was perceived in the character of Charles. Most persons who act improperly, as I have said before, endeavour to find an excuse for their conduct, and he formed no exception to the rule. His apology for his parsimony p. 17was, that he was saving every pound he could accumulate to help pay for his college education when he should be sent thither. A poor, shallow excuse, for his mother often assured him how little he needed such mean precaution, and entreated him to spend his money with proper liberality. Mrs. Sidney so often shed tears on his account, that no one in the house was much surprised to see her weeping on one important occasion.

Charles was at this time about fifteen, when, entering his mother’s morning room somewhat suddenly, he found her in tears, with an open letter in her hand, which Charles in a moment remarked had a black border and a black seal.

“What is the matter, mamma?” said he “is any one we know dead?”

“Yes, Charles,” she replied; “I am sorry to say three relations, whom, though you may have heard of, you have never seen, have been suddenly removed from this world by the upsetting of a boat in which they had gone on a pleasure excursion.”

“Not Lord Sereton and his sons?” exclaimed Charles, clasping his hands, while an expression of anything but sorrow passed over his countenance.

p. 18“Yes, Charles,” replied Mrs. Sidney, after a moment’s pause, “I am sorry to say they are no more.”

“Sorry, mamma,” shrieked the youth, in a voice of gaiety that, considering the circumstances, was horrible. “Sorry, mamma, why then I . . . I . . . am . . .”

“Yes, you are Lord Sereton now.”

“And shall I have all the money, mamma, and the houses, and that beautiful park which I once went to see, and the carriages, and the horses, and the—the—all the beautiful things? Oh, yes, I shall, I know I shall. I am so glad—I am so happy. Lord Sereton was only papa’s third cousin, I know, but I am the next heir.”

“And do you feel no shock”—said Mrs. Sidney, rising and laying her hand on her son’s shoulder, while she spoke almost with a shudder;—“do you feel no shock at the awful sudden deaths of three estimable individuals—no compassion for the bereaved widow and mother? and, beyond all, do you not feel deeply conscious of the additional responsibilities and the heavy duties which become yours with this accession of wealth and rank? Oh, Charles, it is hard for a mother to wish such a thing for a son, yet, unless the Most High would change your heart, p. 19I could pray that this wealth might not be yours. Oh, my son, let me beseech you to humble yourself before His throne, and ask His grace and assistance.”

But Charles, or as we may now call him, the young Lord Sereton, at no time rendered anything but lip service to his God. It is easy enough to do this, though such prayers never mount to heaven, but fall back to the earth from which they spring. Prayers, to be acceptable to God, must arise from a devout frame of mind, and be accompanied by a diligent endeavour to acquire that grace for which we ask, while by our actions we must show the sincerity of our hearts. “That ye cannot serve two masters,” was fully illustrated in his case; and he, the slave of Mammon, was lured on with the vain expectation that his new wealth would bring happiness!

Of course, during the minority of the young lord, the guardians whom the law appointed took care of his property and estates; but, boy as he was, large sums of money were still at his disposal, and he was old enough to have considerable influence with those who had legal authority over his fortune. His treasures, however, were a sort of “enchanted wealth,” which, p. 20as he used it, or rather did not use it, was as valueless as a bag of gold to the thirsty traveller in the desert, who cannot procure with it a glass of water; and certainly happiness, according to Charles’s plan, was as completely out of his reach.

As he rode or walked over his estates, no face was there which lighted up with grateful pleasure, as would have been the case at the approach of a generous and kind young landlord; no, he was miserable himself, because he never attempted to make others happy. Tutors were to a certain degree forced upon him by his guardians, or I really believe he would have neglected to pursue those studies which he before followed, much more as the means of acquiring future wealth, than for love of themselves.

And so time passed on, Mrs. Sidney often spending a week or month at her sister’s pretty cottage, where, surrounded by the kind-hearted generous family, she could not but contrast that happy home with the splendid misery of Sereton Hall; an abode rendered melancholy to her by its young owner’s selfish and avaricious nature.

It had been the custom for many generations, p. 21on the coming of age of the lord or heir of Sereton Hall, to have a general feasting and merry-making among the tenantry; an ox was roasted whole, and such rural festivities were observed as I dare say you have often heard described, if you have not witnessed them.

When his birthday drew near, it was with great difficulty that the young lord could be persuaded to adhere to the old-fashioned custom; calling it waste, profusion, and using many other words which belong to a miser’s vocabulary.

At last, however, he yielded to his friends’ advice, chiefly, it is very probable, because they represented to him that if he made himself more unpopular than he already was, the people on his estate might find some serious manner of showing their dislike.

The eventful day arrived. A glorious morning dawned, which should have been ushered in by the ringing of bells, but unfortunately there was so much difficulty in finding any one willing to perform this office in honour of the grinding, hard-hearted young landlord, that Charles had nearly finished a somewhat late breakfast before a feeble peal fell on his ear. Soon afterwards he had an interview, by appointment, p. 22with his guardians and trustees, in which they resigned all the papers connected with the estates.