To The West | Page 2

facing Esau Dean, writing and copying letters, while my
fellow-clerk wrote out catalogues for the printer to put in type, both of
us in the service of Mr Isaac Dempster, an auctioneer in Baring Lane,
in the City of London, and also both of us, according to Mr Dempster,
the most stupid idiots that ever dipped pen in ink.
I supposed then that Mr Dempster was right--that I was stupid and not

worth my salt, and that he had only to hold up his little finger and he
could get a thousand better lads than we were; but at the same time I
felt puzzled that he should keep us on, and that Saturday after Saturday
he should pay our wages and never say a word about discharging
us--Esau for going to sleep over his work, and me for making so many
mistakes.
I had had scores of opportunities for judging that Mr Dempster was a
hard unfeeling man, who was never harder than when he had been out
to his lunch, and came back nibbling a toothpick, and smelling very
strongly of sherry; but it had never come so thoroughly home to me as
on that bright day, just at the time when for nearly an hour the sun
shone down into the narrow court-like lane, and bathed our desk, and
made me think of the country, the garden, the bright river, and above
all, of those who were dead and gone.
As I told you, my eyes were very dim when I saw Mr John Dempster
come out of the office slowly and close the door, to stand on the mat
shaking his head sadly.
"He who goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing," he said to himself, softly.
"I might have known--I might have known."
He turned then and glanced at Esau, smiling faintly to see him asleep,
and then his eyes met mine gazing at him fixedly, for somehow he
seemed just then to have a something in his face that recalled my father,
as he looked one day when he had had some very bad news--something
about money. And as I gazed at our visitor that day the likeness seemed
to grow wonderful, not in features, but in his aspect, and the lines about
his eyes and the corner of his mouth.
"Ah, my lad," he said, with a pleasant smile full of sadness, "you ought
to pray that you might be always young and free from care. Good-day."
He nodded and passed out of the office, and I heard his steps in the
narrow lane.
I glanced at Esau, who was asleep still, then at the door of the inner

office, and started as I heard a cough and the rustling of a newspaper.
Then, gliding off my stool, I caught my cap from the peg where it hung,
slipped out at the swing-door, and saw our late visitor just turning the
corner at the bottom of the lane into Thames Street.
The next minute I had overtaken him, and he turned sharply with a
joyful look in his eyes.
"Ah!" he said, "my cousin has sent you to call me back?"
"No, sir," I stammered, with my cheeks burning; and there I stopped,
for the words would not come.
How well I remember it! We were close to the open door of a
warehouse, with the scent of oranges coming out strongly, and great
muscular men with knots on their shoulders, bare-armed, and with drab
breeches and white stockings, were coming up a narrow court leading
to a wharf, bearing boxes of fruit from a schooner, and going back
wiping their foreheads with their bare arms.
"You came after me?" said our visitor, with the old pained look in his
eyes, as he half turned from me, and I stood turning over something in
my hand.
"You came after me?" he said again; and as he once more looked in my
eyes, they seemed to make me speak.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, what is it? Speak out."
"I--I couldn't help hearing all you said to Mr Dempster, sir," I faltered.
"Eh!" he cried, with a start. Then with a smile full of bitterness, "Let it
be a lesson to you, boy. Work--strive--do anything sooner than humble
yourself as I have done this day. But--but," he said, as if to himself,
"Heaven knows I was driven."
"Mr Dempster never will lend any one money, sir," I said hastily; "but

if you wouldn't mind--I don't want this for a bit. I've been saving it
up--for a long time--and--by and by--you can pay me again, and--"
I had stammered out all this and then stopped short, drawing my breath
hard, for he had seized my hand, and was gripping it so hard that the
coin I held was pressed into my fingers, as