The Brother Clerks | Page 5

forgot her existence, and she was left to battle with the heavy change alone. It was impossible for them all to live together now, and the mother felt that if Arthur left her, Gillian, too, must go to learn the ways of that world, of the hollowness and falseness of which he as yet knew nothing.
About this time, a Southern paper fell into their hands, containing an advertisement, by a merchant in New-Orleans, for two young clerks, to fill vacancies recently made in his number of assistants. After due consideration, it was determined that they might fill those places, and the merchant was accordingly written to. An answer was immediately returned, desiring that they should come on as soon as possible, stating that it was not his custom to engage Northern clerks, but that it was a season of the year when it was difficult to procure any one, and for this reason he had decided in their favor. He further stated that he should expect them to remain with him winter and summer, as he could not go to the inconvenience of engaging clerks from such a distance, and then have them away three or four months in a year.
On the whole, Mrs. Pratt thought the letter a very stern and disagreeable one in tone, and shuddered as she pictured to herself the character of the writer. What would her delicate and gentle Guly do, in daily contact with such a cold, blunt-lipped man. Still, there was nothing she could devise that would be well for them, and New-Orleans, at that time, was considered an El Dorado, where industry and perseverance soon brought the fickle goddess to bestow her glittering stores. It was a long way to send them from her side, but she experienced a pride which prevented her from applying for situations for them nearer home. Thus, it was decided they should go. In the bright anticipations of future fortune and happiness, which immediately filled his busy brain, in the preparation for departure, and the prospect of his approaching journey, Arthur in a measure forgot the calamity which had over-taken them, and the attendant painful separation from his sole remaining parent. He dwelt enthusiastically upon the fortune he was confident he should soon win. He told how frequent his letters home would be, and hinted that, as soon as practicable, they would contain something more than mere words. His voice, when dwelling upon this subject, was always loud and confident, and even in the midst of all their troubles he sometimes laughed as merrily as of old, when picturing their restored wealth and renewed happiness.
Not so Guly. He hovered round his mother like some gentle spirit; saying but little, yet evincing in every glance of his expressive blue eyes, and in every noiseless footfall, the deep sorrow which lay in the recesses of his young heart. When he spoke it was in accents of tenderness and sympathy for his mother; and though he never talked as Arthur did of the approaching journey, and its results, there was an expression of firmness and determination in his thoughtful face, which more than once forced upon the mother's heart the conviction, that in that distant land, this frail being, after all, might prove the stronger of the two. Daily she warned them of the temptations and snares that would beset their path, and taught them to zealously shun such, as they would a viper in their way. They listened and promised; and when the expected day of departure arrived, bade her adieu in the midst of her tears, and prayers, and blessings. Thus was the widow left utterly alone; yet in her faith she felt not forsaken, knowing that the Father of the fatherless was with her in her woe.
CHAPTER III.
Number -- Chartres-Street.
With the first ray of the morning light, Gulian was awake. Without disturbing his brother, he rose, dressed himself, and took a survey of his chamber by daylight. It was a large, gloomy-looking room, unceiled and unpainted, and the rough beams and rafters looked like the ponderous ribs of some antediluvian monster, which might crumble in at any time, and bury all beneath them. The windows were large, but dingy and begrimed with the unmoved dust of years; and spiders' webs hung in profuse festoons from the dirty sashes. A quantity of old barrels, boards, wine casks, and other lumber, were carelessly thrown in one corner, and the door which opened upon the staircase was covered with big-lettered advertisements, in such diversified type that it seemed as if the old door was "making faces" all the time, to improve its Punch and Judyish appearance. The windows looked down into the courtyards of adjoining dwellings, which were built up so high that no view was afforded beyond. As Guly