GIFTS.
Caleb received the present of a handsome gun from his wealthy godfather. "How happy rich people are!" said his young friend Edward. "Many and many a time, dear Caleb, have I wished to give you a gun, knowing how much you longed for one. But, poor dog as I am, I had not the means."—"And was your wishing to do it, and the motive of your wish, worth nothing?" said Caleb, kindly: "Why, my dear fellow, you are a poor accountant, if you cannot discover, that the love which urges to a gift, is, at least, worth the gift itself."—"But it is pleasant to have the power of evincing our affection."—"Very pleasant; and I should think your case hard indeed, if rich gifts were the only mode by which love could be shewn," replied Caleb. "Name some other mode," said Edward. "That will I, and easily," answered Caleb: "can you give me any present more valuable than your time, your advice, your assistance? When I was ill, how many days and nights did you not bestow on my sick chamber! When I was in disgrace with my father, how much did not your counsel and aid promote my restoration to favour! Dear Ned, do not fall into the too common error, that money constitutes the sole wealth of mortals."
Gifts; or the New & Old Guns.
Pubd. May 1, 1831, by J. Harris, St. Pauls Church Yd.
The friends went out with their dogs and their guns.—The new piece was to be proved.—It looked in excellent order.—Caleb waited for a capital shot, to try its merits.—The game was scarce; and the dogs were long in raising it. Over stubble, and through wood, and brook, and brier, the party passed. Edward, something in advance, had the first chance of a shot. He fired his old double-barrelled gun, and brought down a couple of fine young birds.
"The next chance be yours," cried he, gaily stepping behind Caleb. Caleb prepared to perform wonders. "My worthy godfather must have all my first shot brings down," said he, proudly; as if his first shot must certainly bring down half a dozen birds at least.
There was a pause.—The dogs pointed—a ring pheasant rose majestically—Caleb fired—the gun had some internal defect, and burst in the firing. A moment of delay in the discharge—a delay that shewed something was wrong, sufficed for the wary and quick eye of friendship.
Edward, with an instant powerful thrust, forced the piece from his friend before it burst, and the gun was shattered as it lay on the ground. "See, Edward," said Caleb triumphantly, "the single touch of your hand has saved a life, which this splendid gift had endangered."